


Medyria

by AuthorInDistress



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angelus Sired Spike, Gen, Human Spike (BtVS), Past Rape/Non-con, Plot, Post-Episode: s04e07 The Initiative, Post-Season/Series 04, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-09 07:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 56,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17997617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorInDistress/pseuds/AuthorInDistress
Summary: One night, Spike turns up at Giles' door, completely soaked through and uncontrollably shape-shifting into different people.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Plot changes:
> 
>  
> 
> **The Initiative is still in action - post Adam. Riley is in charge.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Angelus Sired Spike, not Drusilla.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Spike didn't help Adam - the last he saw them, he'd helped Giles with the Fyaral Issue.**

.

It was a quarter past nine when Giles heard an insistent knock at his door. He’d expected Xander, the repetitive knocking more his behaviour, maybe even a neighbour or god forbid, someone from that ridiculous Initiative. Instead, he came face-to-face with a rather drowned-looking Spike.

“Spike.” He raised his eyebrows, taking him in. Despite looking soaked to the skin, he seemed perfectly normal otherwise, other than the fact that he also looked relatively haunted, “Is there – ?” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask but he was cut off anyway.

“Can I come in?”

He paused, frowning, “Well if you must,” He said. He already had an invitation and had no need to ask, but even with this grudging welcome, he didn’t move. Rolling his eyes, Giles turned from him and stepped back into the warmth of his living room. “If you’re after food, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I’ve not had a chance to shop.”

Spike walked in and shut the door after him, hugging himself, “I don’t need food.” He said, staying by the doorway until eventually Giles looked back at him.

“I suppose you want to hide from the Initiative then,” He concluded, “Though I must warn you, Riley often – ”

“Do you have a towel?” Spike interrupted him and it was then that Giles saw how much he was dripping. He was thankful then that he hadn’t come any further in and spoiled the carpet.

“Yes. Here.” He opened the cupboard beside the kitchen and tossed one over, watching as Spike toed his boots off and started to pat himself dry, “I doubt you’re likely to get a cold but you’d probably be best wearing something else.”

“Haven’t got anything else.” Spike muttered, taking his jacket off and hanging it on one of the pegs.

Giles sighed, leaving him downstairs for a moment and getting whatever old thing he could find. It wasn’t his but he’d washed it, which made it either Buffy or Xander’s, though considering its length and size, it was probably the latter’s.

“Here.” He put the jumper and pants on the sofa, heading to the kitchen to give Spike the privacy to change and to pour himself a glass of water to mask that. Spike joined him in the kitchen a moment later, the jumper making him look paler than he was with its dark wool, and his hair was loose and still slightly damp.

“Do you want a cuppa tea?” He asked, his voice raspy, and Giles almost dropped his glass in shock, hiding it in a pause.

“I – yes. Alright. No sugar.”

“Yeah.” Spike stepped around him and put the kettle to boil, getting out two mugs and popping tea-bags into them. His time living here had obviously taught him the layout.

As he bent to get the milk out of the fridge, Giles asked, “Are you going to explain why you’re here Spike? And why you’re soaking wet on one of the driest nights this summer?”

“Fell in a river.” Spike told him, watching the kettle begin to shake once it reached the boiling point.

“And you came here and not home?”

“Crypt’s too cold.”

“Right.” Despite knowing it would take far more than a simple chill to harm a vampire, he supposed Spike had simply not wanted to be uncomfortable. His crypt didn’t have heating or a warm bed and he was likely still in the middle of ‘redecorating’, as he’d put it. “Well – ”

“Oh. Wait.” Spike cut him off once again, “Almost forgot.” He left the kitchen and returned a minute later with a plastic bag. Inside was a wad of cash. “Here.” He handed it over and poured water into the mugs to avoid his gaze.

Giles took it, slightly dazed. He cleared his throat, “Unlike you Spike, I’m not in the habit of asking for payment for doing a simple favour.” He sniped, though he was glad for the money if he was honest.

Spike just shrugged, squeezing the tea-bags and dropping them into the waste-bin, putting Giles’ mug in front of him on the counter and taking his own out to the living room. He sat on the sofa, cupping the mug in his hands.

“Is anyone else here?” He asked.

“No. Though, Buffy is due to come by first thing in the morning.”

“Right.” He sipped at his tea, staring forward at the wall, “Slayer-stuff.” Giles looked at him, startled when he suddenly turned to stare at him instead, “Can I borrow your phone?”

Giles gestured toward it with a wave, sipping at his own tea and returning to his desk and the book that he’d been reading before Spike’s arrival.

“Cheers.” Spike stood and a second later, Giles heard his receiver droning at being removed from the handset. Spike dialled whatever number he was after and then there was silence for a long, few moments. Then the receiver was placed back.

“No one home?” Giles called and Spike returned, coming around to look down at his book.

“What are you looking at?” He asked, avoiding the question. Giles shifted, showing him the rest of the book.

“Buffy came across this demon a few days ago. It had killed a young child and eaten her organs. Left her with nothing but skin and hair.” He frowned in distaste at the reminder, “This morning she found another body and now we are trying to find this creature before it attacks again.”

Spike nodded and here was usually the point where he would lose interest, make a joke, or simply ‘root for the demon’. Instead however, he pulled the second chair around and sat down, looking over the pages.

“Sounds like a P’yshma.” He said.

“Yes,” Giles ignored his surprise at such odd behaviour, more focused on the demon at the moment, “That’s what I’d found. Though this book is only written in _Gryvian_ which is rather hard to decipher.”

“Well I speak Gryvian.” Spike pulled the book closer and took up a spare pencil, scrawling on the paper Giles had beside him, “Here.”

He began to translate but in all honesty, Giles didn’t trust what he wrote. He pulled the book back and plucked the pencil from Spike’s fingers, “Well I’ve been pottering through just fine ‘til now.” He said, waiting for the huff or insult that would come.

Spike looked at him and leant back in the chair, not saying a word. In fact, he stayed silent all through Giles’ own translating, and when he eventually stood to call Buffy with news. He explained what the book had told him regarding the P’yshma, it’s weaknesses and habits, and then told her to watch herself on patrol tonight.

When he returned to the table however, Spike had taken the book again and was writing on the paper.

“Spike – ” His reprimand was drowned by a heavy knock on the door and Spike shot up, the chair tipping over behind him. His eyes were wide and he rounded the table to head for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Giles blinked at the sudden reaction, bewildered, before opening the door.

As he’d suspected, it was Riley. Along with a few of his soldiers.

“Riley,” He greeted, refusing to seem nervous in front of them, though their weapons were certainly intimidating, “Buffy’s not here, if that’s what you’re after?”

“No,” Riley gave him an apologetic smile, “We’re actually hunting a new demon in the area and we got a cold spot in your house. That usually means Vampire, so.” He shrugged, clearly hinting that he’d like permission to search his house.

“Well vampires need invitations,” Giles reminded him, “And I can assure you I have no intention of inviting one in.”

Riley frowned, aware that Spike could enter if he wanted, but one of his men nudged him, “Sir? Cold spot’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Just flickered off. Could be the map’s malfunctioning.”

Still frowning, Riley took it, clearly thinking that might be the case, “Or something’s interfering.” He shook the device in his hands, turning back to Giles, “Sorry Giles. We didn’t mean to bother you. But be on the lookout anyway, there’s a nasty demon around. Drained a girl of all her organs.”

“Yes, we’re aware.” Giles told him, shutting the door and waiting until he heard them leave. He went upstairs hesitantly afterward then, sure that Spike would have gone through a window to avoid being noticed and hoped he’d had the decency to open one beforehand.

Instead however, he found Spike sitting on the floor in his guestroom, shivering, with his hair much longer and hanging over his eyes. He was soaked again and his hands were trembling as he put them to his face. When he heard the floor creak, he snapped his head up to see Giles stood there.

His face was different, the features similar and yet changed. His nose was rounder, his lips thinner. His eyes were brown and not blue. And he looked terrified.

“I don’t – ” His voice was rough, close to tears, and despite everything in him that held animosity toward the man, Giles knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“When did this first happen?” Giles asked and Spike sniffed, his features changing again like a ripple across his face. His eyelashes grew, his skin darkened, his heaving chest pillowed out.

“Two days ago.” Spike answered, his voice softer, thin with fear and new femininity. He visibly noticed the change and put a hand to his mouth, “I couldn’t reach something and then suddenly I was taller than it. And then those soldier boys came knocking and when I hid, I changed again. And it hurt.”

“Hurt?” Giles frowned.

“Not every time,” Spike cleared his throat, his voice returning to normal, “But – it’s like my bones are shifting.”

Giles stood, leaving to go and get another towel. When he went downstairs he noticed that Spike had folded the used one and placed it on the desk beside the front door. He touched it gingerly and found it sodden, lifting it to put into his washing basket and getting a fresh one out from the cupboard.

Spike took it when it was placed beside him and wrapped his shoulders with it, bowed and still on the floor.

“This sounds like magic,” Giles thought aloud, “Possibly of the vengeance sort.”

“I’ve not seen Anya.” Spike argued.

“Well she couldn’t anyway,” Giles told him, “But it could still be a curse. I might have to get Willow on it.”

“No.” Spike’s forceful tone made him blink, “No I don’t want the Slayer knowing. No one.”

Giles scowled, “Then why come to me, if you didn’t want help?”

“I didn’t think you’d _help_ me,” Spike snapped, “I thought you’d just give me shelter for a while, no questions asked with the soldier boys about, and then kick me out.”

Giles stopped. That did sound like him. “Well I am going to help. For all I know, you are not the only victim to this.” Spike glared at him, “But I suppose Buffy doesn’t need to know just yet. We may just need Willow for this, though her spell-casting is still – ”

Spike bent over, groaning with a hand to his stomach, and his form changed again. This time, it returned to normal. He was panting by the time it was done, his teeth clenched, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out myself.” He got to his feet shakily, feeling for the door and finding his way out.

Giles followed him, “Is there any particular reason you’re not demanding we help you in this?” He asked, genuinely curious, “Are you to blame for it?”

“No.”

“Then what? I must admit, you’re not acting yourself.” Spike scoffed, getting his jacket.

“I’ll bring you the clothes back tomorrow.” He said and then he was gone. Giles sighed, wondering whether he should call Buffy after all but then deciding against it and going through the internet for possible occurrences of what Spike was experiencing.

He found next to nothing and then remembered Spike had tried to call someone earlier with no luck. He tapped the box next to his phone, grimacing at the fairly new technology that he was still getting to grips with, and let the speaker play.

The first number was Buffy’s that he’d called himself but the second was unrecognisable and he noted it down as it played, dialling it in himself a second later.

The phone rang for a long while but then disconnected. He sighed, keeping the number for future reference.

Come morning, he’d decided that if Spike showed up a second time, still shifting, he’d tell Buffy. At the moment however, their priority was the demon. Apparently Buffy had run into it last night but had been interrupted by Riley and the soldiers, and in the confusion it had escaped.

She was still fuming about that and as an apology, Riley had promised to patrol with her tonight without the rest of his team. She’d accepted and concluded her story by asking if Giles was okay with it.

“Of course,” He said, “I don’t disagree that he is useful. I simply disagree with the Initiative still having it’s base here after Adam and Professor Walsh.”

“Yeah me too,” Buffy sighed, “I mean. I’m happier with Riley in charge but – I still find it wrong after Oz and all. Still, if his guys are willing to work _with_ me and not blocking me, then that’s progress.”

“If you insist,” Giles smiled, throwing her a scarf, “Now blindfold yourself. We’re going to train outside today.”

She immediately made a face, “But it’s so hot out.”

“It’s good to work up a sweat,” Giles reminded her, “Especially if you’ll be hunting the P’yshma in these hot nights.”

She scowled but followed him out nonetheless, blindfolding herself as she went.

They trained most of the morning until eventually Joyce called Buffy to come home and Giles returned to the shade of his own. As he did however, he almost had a heart-attack when he spotted a body lying over his sofa. Upon closer and wary inspection, he saw that it was Spike and felt tempted to thump him.

He didn’t in the end and simply let him sleep, sure that he obviously felt the need to ask for help now. He seemed normal as he slept too, not changed or wet, though he was without his duster and boots. They weren’t by the door and he had no socks on either, curled on the sofa barefoot in jeans and Xander’s jumper.

He barely stirred as Giles worked as well, completely out of it, until evening started to come around. Then he yawned, sitting up and wiping at his eyes. He saw Giles sitting at the table and paused, climbing to his feet and very badly, attempting to tip-toe past.

“I expect an apology for scaring me half-to-death,” Giles commented as he did, stopping him in his tracks, “And for using my sofa without permission.”

“Yesterday you were all up for being helpful.” Spike said, for once void of sarcasm.

“That was yesterday,” Giles reminded him, “You shot me down on that and yet here you are again.” For a long moment, Spike didn’t say anything, and Giles was suddenly sure that he’d gone. He turned in his seat to check and saw him standing with his head low and his chest heaving.

He didn’t need to breathe and yet he obviously had a habit of it, possibly by trying to fit in with humans or perhaps something he’d just never stopped doing. Now, he looked close to hyperventilating if he could.

“Spike?” Giles stood, wary that it was an act but concerned as well, “Is it happening again?”

Spike shook his head, looking up, “Don’t kick me out.” He said, “They’re everywhere out there.”

“Who is?”

“Those bloody soldiers,” He hugged himself protectively, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Giles sighed, taking his glasses off to wipe them, “Which is precisely why I told you to move on from Sunnydale,” He said, “It isn’t safe for you here.”

“I can’t.” Spike hunched his shoulders.

“Oh yes. You still expect the Initiative to ‘undo’ what they did to you.”

“No,” Spike winced, “They’d never. I know that now. But I just – I can’t leave. It hurts.”

Giles paused, “What do you mean? You’ve tried to leave?”

“It felt like I was burning,” He explained, “I’d step on the border, by the sign, and everything would hurt. I tried to force it but I probably would have dusted if I’d gone on any longer.”

Looking him at for a while Giles narrowed his eyes, putting a hand to Spike’s shoulder and leading him to the sofa.

“If you want me to help, which you clearly do, I need to know everything. The whole story.”

“I’ve told yo – ”

“Spike.”

After a moment, Spike looked like he wanted to storm out again or even just sit and glare, but he sat back instead and chewed on the inside of his cheeks.

“When I was captured by those gits,” He started, “They had this project. The behaviour-thing, with the chip, you know it. And they’d try to ‘train’ us. Like dogs.” He grit his teeth, “Some of them had more fun with it. Those ones found me the other day in my crypt. They shot me with something and all night, they kept finding me. I realised they’d put something in me and I – I cut it out but then I started _changing_.”

“After you took the device out?”

“Yeah. It was small, red. Flashing. I stomped on it and they lost my trail but a couple of minutes later I hurt all over and my body changed. I felt hot and they walked right by me with those scanner things. They couldn’t see me.” He sniffed, “It kept happening then, all day, and they came back to the crypt to look for me so I came here. There. Whole story.”

“Not quite,” Giles countered, “Who did you try to call?”

“No one.” Spike rolled his eyes, “Wrong number.”

“Spike.”

“ _No one_ , okay. I wanted to see if the butcher’s was open but I dialled wrong and then remembered they were closed anyway.” It wasn’t one of his better lies but Giles let it be.

“So. You’re saying this whole issue started happening after the Initiative shot you?” Spike nodded, looking uncomfortable, “Well then I think you know what to do next.”

“Yeah,” He curled in on himself, bitter, “Tell Buffy.”

.

“Okay I’m sorry, but did you say he grew _boobs_ the other day?” Spike lifted his head up to glare at Xander, huddled in a blanket. He’d changed before they’d all arrived again and had ended up soaked. They couldn’t see the connection but in the meantime, a blanket kept him warm.

“Yes,” Giles said, exasperated, “I said his body shifted from male to female for just a moment.”

“And … why is this our problem?” Buffy asked, not for the first time, “So Spike is going through some changes, it happens to everyone, he’ll get used to it.” Xander snorted at her phrasing.

“It’s our problem,” Giles told her, “Because I believe the Initiative may be behind it. The same Initiative you are working with at the moment.”

“Patrolling with,” She corrected, “And that’s just Riley, who wouldn’t just go after any – ”

“Wasn’t him.” Spike cut her off. “They hid it, said not to ‘tell Finn’.”

Taken aback by his admission, Buffy blinked, “Who said?”

“I don’t know names.” He frowned, thinking, “But there’s three of them. Seen them in a group before, though. One’s got a shaved head and – has a burn on his shoulder.”

“His shoulder?” Buffy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“How’d you see his shoulder through all that gear they wear?” Xander added and Spike gave him a long look.

“I smelt it.” He said eventually.

“Okay.” Buffy sighed, turning to Giles, “I’ll talk to Fin – _Riley_ about this tonight. Willow, you stay and see if you can work out why this is happening and how. Xander, check out Spike’s crypt, see if anything’s been left behind that could give us a hint and Giles – uh.” She glanced at Spike, “Keep an eye on him.”

With the final decision made, the group disbanded. Willow stayed only a little longer to browse spell-books and so forth to see if they could find a culprit for the shapeshifting but after a few hours it was clearly a dead-end and Giles sent her to her dorm before dark.

Spike had been pacing all the while, the blanket still wrapped around him and trailing over the floor, but now that they were alone he stopped and shivered on the sofa. Feeling a little sorry for him, Giles made some hot cocoa for them both, giving Spike his mug when he poked his hands out through the blanket to grab it.

“So,” Giles sat back at his desk, “Are you ready to tell the truth now?”

Spike peeked at him through the hood the blanket had made around his head, “I have.” He argued. “Those bastards did something to me.”

“Yes,” Giles sipped his cocoa, “And yet yesterday, you told me you’d changed _before_ they’d come storming into your crypt.” Whilst the ‘scoobies’ had been here, he’d given it some thought, and he’d remembered the contradictions in Spike’s story. “Not to mention the fact that I tried the number you called yesterday and got through.”

At that, Spike twisted around to face him head-on, buying his bluff, “He _answered?”_ He asked, looking hurt for just a moment before scoffing, “Bloody typical.”

Still not entirely sure who they were talking about, Giles tried again, “What made you think he’d know what caused this?” He asked and Spike shrugged.

“Didn’t think he would,” He said, “But he’s still my Sire, whether he likes it or not. Thought he’d at least give some advice.”

His Sire. He’d tried to call _Angel?_

“A lot has happened to you these last few weeks Spike,” Giles reminded him, “Why _now_ would you call Angel?”

“Because.” Spike snapped and just like that, that line of questioning was cut.

“Alright,” Giles stood slowly, walking around to sit on one of the armchairs, facing Spike, “Why lie then?”

“Hello,” Spike gestured to himself, wincing when he spilled a bit of cocoa on his palm, sucking on it, “Evil.” He said around his hand.

“Yes, yes, you’re evil.” Giles rolled his eyes, “But this is affecting you and we need the information to _help_ you. So why lie about it?”

“I didn’t lie.” Spike huffed, “Those Soldiers must have done it.”

“You said they shot you _after_ you’d first changed. You were trying to reach something and then were suddenly taller?”

“They did.”

“So how could they have – ?” He cut himself off, frowning, “You saw them before that, didn’t you.”

Spike hunched his shoulders, “Told you. Some of them have fun with this all. I can’t defend myself, can I. And you humans love a creature that can’t defend itself.”

Ignoring his offence at that unfortunately rather true statement, Giles leant back with a sigh, “And did they inject anything? Did you feel anything during their – well. Their altercation with you?”

“I was more focused on not blacking out.” Spike told him, “Taser can do that to you. So no.”

Uncomfortable, Giles nodded, “Yes, well. I’ll mention it to Buffy.”

“No.” Spike glared at him, “There was a reason I didn’t mention it to Blondie in the first place. I don’t want anyone knowing.”

“Spike, it’s hardly a slight on you. We’re aware you can’t defend yourself, what these men did is – ”

“I don’t care what you think, Watcher. I don’t. Want. _Anyone_. Knowing.” He glowered into the mug, downing the rest of the cocoa and burrowing himself back into the blanket. He clearly meant that to end the conversation but Giles was running out of patience and he didn’t particularly have any for Spike as it was.

Standing, he snatched the blanket and threw it aside. Spike jerked when he was pushed forward and unceremoniously wrapped, “Hey!”

“Speak.” Giles ordered him, “Now. You called Angel about this, you know more than you’re letting on, and I will not waste any more of our time unless you start cooperating. I am trying to _help_ you, Spike, for some inane reason. Don’t make me change my mind.”

Staring at him, Spike sat back slowly, chewing on his bottom lip. Whether he was going to answer wasn’t obvious but the door burst open before he could anyway and the both of them glanced up to see just who they’d been speaking about stood in the doorway.

“Well look at that,” Spike drawled, “Speak of the devil.”

It didn’t take long for Giles to fill Angel in on what was happening and likewise for Angel to say he’d only come down because of the missed calls he’d had from Giles’ phone. Not to mention the voice-message that was only a second of someone’s breath but had been enough for him to know that Spike was here and that he needed to make sure no one was in trouble.

Now that he knew it was _Spike_ in trouble, he seemed less interested, and that wasn’t missed by his Childe.

“So you’ve been changing?” He asked and Spike shrugged, the very picture of a bratty teen, “Show me.”

“I can’t do it on demand.” Spike scoffed, “Don’t even know what triggers it.”

“He doesn’t seem to change entirely either,” Giles said, “More features at a time and not a whole body.”

“Has he changed into things you recognise? People you know?”

“Not that I’ve seen. Though it is difficult to know if he has someone’s nose or lips if I’ve not studied them for hours before.”

Angel paused at his sarcasm but didn’t rise to it, instead kneeling until he was at eye-level with Spike, “Been dabbling with magic, Spike?” He asked. All he got was a dark look, “So these same men who put a chip in your head decided they didn’t like how you looked too? I mean, the chip I understand, but the shapeshifting? Unless they wanted to train you to infiltrate groups of vampires, I don’t see – ”

“No one’s training me to do anything,” Spike growled, “I escaped that hole and they came for me _afterwards_ but didn’t take me back. And they could have too.”

“What do you mean?”

“They beat him,” Giles told him and Angel looked taken-aback, frowning.

“Yeah,” Spike fiddled with the sleeves of his jumper, “They could have easily just dragged me back. But they didn’t.”

Angel nodded slowly, thinking, “Which probably means they got exactly what they wanted.” Without warning, he suddenly darted forward and pushed Spike’s sleeve up, grabbing his left arm. Spike lurched back, trying to tug it free.

“Oi! Get off!”

“You’ve been itching this non-stop since I got here,” Angel commented and his grip loosened when he saw why. There were dark cuts on Spike’s arm, healing now which explained the itching, but beneath them was a slightly older mark that seemed thinner and more deliberate.

Spike succeeded in getting his arm back and yanked the sleeve down, looking furious, “Don’t touch me, you – ”

“What did that say?” Angel interrupted, “That said something, before you tried to scratch it out.”

“He did that to himself?” Giles said aloud, the marks fresh in his mind.

“Covering whatever was under it, yeah,” Angel explained, still looking Spike dead in the eye,” What was it Spike?” He didn’t get an answer and after five minutes of staring, he stepped back, “Fine. Be stubborn. But whatever they marked on you could be what’s causing this.”

“Yeah stop with the all-knowing attitude,” Spike muttered, “It’s not a spell or a curse. It’s just a word, okay. It’s got nothing to do with what’s happening.”

“Then tell me what it says.”

“No, it’s not any of your business,” Spike snapped, pushing himself off of the sofa and shoving Angel back.

“ _You_ called _me.”_ Angel reminded him, gripping his shoulders and forcing him back down. Spike fought against his hold and Giles stepped back, unsure of whether he should stop them or stay clear in case it came to blows.

“Because you Sired _Drusilla_ , that’s – !” Spike cut himself off, grunting and still fighting and when Angel paused in surprise, he turned his head and bit one of the hands holding him down.

“ _Ow,_ you – !” Angel knocked Spike on the head for that and pushed him back, “Idiot.” He hissed, shaking his hand out. There were twin pricks of blood on it from Spike’s teeth. “What does Drusilla have to with – ?” He stopped, looking down at Spike, and Giles noticed just as he did.

Spike had slumped, his eyes shut, and his features had changed again. This time, the change had taken a larger toll on him, though he wasn’t soaked from it. His hair was black now, curled and fluffy over his forehead, and his shoulders were thinner.

As they watched, his skin secreted a clear liquid. Cursing, Giles ran for a towel and Angel lifted Spike to lie him on it, staring down at him in shock.

“Hair. … shoulders and skin,” He commented.

“Skin?” Giles asked, squinting down to see whatever change Angel had noticed.

“Spike doesn’t have any blemishes.” Angel told him, pointing at a few that had appeared around his nose. “But demons that shapeshift don’t change in bits. And if they do, it’s always just the hair, eyes or nose.”

“He mentioned Drusilla,” Giles reminded him, “Did she ever – ?”

“No.” Angel shook his head, sitting down beside Spike’s legs and putting a hand on one of them, “No. Drusilla – her only additional power was her readings. But she had that before I Sired her. It was one of the reasons I _did_ Sire her.”

“After you made her insane.” Giles recalled and Angel stiffened. “Did Spike go through something similar?”

“No.” Angel sighed, “William was Sired in an alley. Drusilla liked him, I turned him, she played with him. He was just a poet, there wasn’t anything special about him.”

“That you knew of.”

Angel looked at him, “What? Spike has a secondary power as well?” He didn’t sound convinced.

“It’s not common,” Giles admitted, “But clearly it happens. I’ve read reports of vampires with sixth senses, some more attuned to magic than others. Shapeshifting may be another.”

“Yes but most of those vampires showed signs of that when _human_ ,” Angel argued.

“Well you just told me Spike was turned in an alley,” Giles said, “Clearly you didn’t spend nearly enough time around him than you did with Drusilla. Perhaps he did show signs and you never saw.”

Angel looked down at Spike, his hand still on his leg, “He never mentioned anything.” He said slowly but in his voice, there was a clear doubt that Spike would have. Victorian as he had been, any abnormalities would have been frowned upon. He would have kept it secret and by the time he’d have known that it wasn’t anything to be shamed of, he and Angel likely would have been estranged.

Still. It begged the question that if Spike _could_ shapeshift, why wait until now to use it? He could have easily have tricked Buffy with this months ago and if he’d been doing so for over a hundred years, surely he’d have better control over it.

“Drusilla.” Giles started, “Her readings. Were they potent when she was human?”

“They became much stronger when she turned, if that’s what you’re asking,” Angel said.

“And is that the case for other secondary powered vampires?”

“I don’t know. I’d say so but – Darla’s Sire, the Master. He was particularly interested in Drusilla at first. Tried to take her from me.”

“Her power may have been rare, then,” Giles went to his library, searching for one of the Council Books that he still had for more information but he wasn’t sure where to start. As he looked, Angel stood to join him.

“I can save you the time and tell you that yes, trauma tends to make vampires stronger,” He said and Giles paused. Truthfully, that hadn’t been in his mind, “My torture on Drusilla is what drove her insane but it’s also what let her see so much. Before, when she was human, she could only read through cards and occasional dreams. As a vampire, she felt power where there was and she saw through _everything_ all the time.”

Giles turned to face him, “Trauma.” He repeated.

“Yeah.” Angel sighed, “It’s why Sires are cruel to their Childer for cruelty’s sake, most of the time. It teaches them strength.”

“But you believe trauma may also awaken secondary powers?”

“No, I never thought that,” Angel admitted, “But Spike clearly did and that’s put the thought in my head. Especially if it means he had this power but couldn’t use it until now.”

“Until he experienced something traumatic.” Giles looked over his shoulder at said vampire, seeing that he was still out cold on the sofa, “But that would mean he’d have to have been through something particularly horrible, _recently_ , in order to trigger – ”

Angel pushed past him and grabbed his coat, shrugging it on, “Let me know when he wakes up.” He said, heading for the door.

Giles blinked, startled, “And where are you going?”

“To find Buffy. And see if she’s up to asking her boyfriend some questions for me.” He slammed the door on his way out and Giles walked around to check that it was still intact, throwing the book in his hands down in frustration. He could have easily have just asked Buffy to come to his house but he supposed Angel still enjoyed theatrics.

“Ang’l?” He turned at the sound of Spike’s voice and saw him sitting up slowly, wincing. His features were normal again but he looked completely confused and exhausted, “Where’d – ?”

Too late, Giles remembered that Spike had said he hadn’t wanted anyone to know about the soldiers and how they’d beaten him, but he could hardly run after Angel now.

“He’s gone to talk to Buffy.” He said and Spike blinked himself aware and tried to scramble up.

“No – _shit_ – ” He tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor with a loud thud. Giles winced at the sound, coming around to help him up but Spike slapped his hand away, “I told you I didn’t want – ” He grit his teeth, holding his stomach as he screwed his eyes shut from pain.

“He ran out before I could stop him.” Spike scoffed but with a hand still on his stomach, he accepted Giles’ help in getting to his feet.

“Stupid ponce. Can’t keep his nose out can he.”

“You did call him.” Giles reminded him.

“Never said _I_ wasn’t stupid,” Spike muttered, sitting back on the sofa and grimacing when he realised his clothes were wet once again, “God. Why’s this happening to me?”

“Angel has a theory you may have a secondary power,” Giles let him know and Spike squinted up at him, “One you may not have been aware of.”

“Like Dru.” He said, nodding, “I thought – but I wasn’t sure.”

“So you rang Angel to ask. And then changed your mind, which led him straight to my house.” He let his annoyance bleed into his tone and Spike stiffened.

“Well I was upset when I rung, wasn’t I!” He defended himself, only to visibly see that he’d revealed something more and jerk his head aside, glaring at the wall. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Secondary power only happens if you had it when you were human too. And I didn’t shapeshift back in the 1800s.”

“Are you sure?”

“Think I would have noticed that, Rupert,” He sneered, “And so would have other people. I’d’ve been locked in an Asylum at best. Or maybe even accused of witchcraft, I don’t know. But no one would have kept quiet about it. I wasn’t exactly popular.”

“Well nothing changes much does it,” Giles quipped and Spike made a face at him. “Well it was only a theory anyway. And Angel seemed sure that it would have been awoken by trauma, the same as Drusilla’s had been.”

“Drusilla’d had hers even before Angelus had haunted her,” Spike argued, “Trauma didn’t have a thing to do with it. And what would I have gone through for it to happen to me? I’m already Sired.”

“You tell me.” Giles said, his voice low. Spike paused, looking at him, “What could have happened for it to happen to you?”

Spike smiled, the gesture cold and angry, “You know, I do actually remember something. While those pricks were beating me, they broke my favourite Record. I honestly didn’t think I’d survive the heartbreak. That must be it. Problem solved, I’ll be seeing you.” He pushed himself to his feet only to wobble and stop, blinking in surprise at his sudden weakness.

“Perhaps you could storm out tomorrow.” Giles suggested, “My spare room is available if you want to rest.”

Spike gave him a cool look but took the offer, wincing when he walked but determined to anyway. He went upstairs and a moment later, Giles heard one of the bedroom doors shut. He shook his head, both annoyed and concerned.

On one hand, Spike was being purposefully difficult and they didn’t exactly owe him anything. On the other, something had clearly happened to him and he was either ashamed or frightened of telling them.

He poured himself a scotch, mulling it over, before deciding to do a little more research. He pulled free the book he’d used when Spike had first arrived in Sunnydale. The information was vague at best, mostly from survivors, of which there were few. The two Slayers Spike had killed were named, along with the first victims that had been put to his name when he’d first turned.

Considering his long history and his on-and-off relationship with Angelus, there didn’t seem much that could traumatise him and he found his concern depleting bit-by-bit as he read on. Spike was a monster and if he was struggling, maybe they shouldn’t help him.

It wasn’t as though he had a soul.

Belatedly he remembered he’d asked Spike to join them not long ago and wondered now what he’d been thinking. With the chip out of the picture, Spike would certainly return to his killing-ways, and no amount of group-work and so on would stop that.

He shut the book and sighed, taking his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Changed your mind, have you.”

He almost jumped but didn’t, clearing his throat and looking at Spike with a frown, “I’m sorry?”

“About helping me.” He nodded at the book, “Wouldn’t blame you.”

The beaten puppy look would not work on him. He sighed, “As intriguing as your emotional manipulation is Spike, I’m tired and going to bed.”

“It’s not _manipulation_ ,” Spike imitated his tone, folded his arms across his chest, “I just want to know when you’ll be kicking me out.”

“Now. If you keep talking,” Giles snapped, walking past him to head for the stairs. Spike didn’t stop him nor speak up again, and for some reason that was more infuriating than him making a comment. Of all the things he’d read about him doing, for him to act docile felt insulting to his victims.

He whirled back around, “Perhaps I should.” He said and Spike looked at him, “After all, it’s the least you deserve.”

“Probably,” He was shrugged at, which only made him angrier, “But then you’d be the guy sending out a harmless and vulnerable creature with no way to protect itself. At least from humans, anyway.”

“Harmless,” Giles repeated, “There are many words for you Spike, but harmless is not one of them. I find it funny how you accept morality only when you can take advantage of it.”

“Taking advantage is what’s gotten me living ‘til this age.” Spike bit back, “You don’t survive if you’ve got a moral compass, you get taken advantage _of_ instead.”

“Even if that were the case, you don’t have a compass of any sort anyway, so it’s not much of an excuse,” Giles reminded him, darkly, “You don’t have a _soul_ Spike. You are a monster made for killing and pain and the only reason, the singular reason, I am helping you is because I do have a conscience. And if the Initiative is making a habit of doing this, then it’s my duty to help stop it.”

Spike just looked at him, his face blank.

“And when this is over, you will leave us all alone.”

“Until you next want me to help, right.” Spike snapped, “Kick me when I’m down but when you need muscle – ”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself,” Giles rolled his eyes, turning to leave him behind and go to bed, “We’ve managed fine without you before.”

He went up the stairs, Spike quiet once again, but when he turned to look back at him he saw that he was back at his desk and making notes like he had yesterday and not glaring up at him like he’d expected.

He frowned but let it go, needing sleep and peace of mind and not in the mood to argue more. He doubted Spike would destroy his books, not if he didn’t want to be kicked out so soon.

By morning, he found that he was right as he came downstairs to see that Spike was asleep over the desk, all the books unharmed and open. He was curious about what he’d been reading but the sun was almost on him from where he sat and Giles had to nudge him awake to avoid anything catching fire.

“Get to a bed,” He ordered, going to make himself some breakfast. Spike grabbed the papers that he’d been working on and did as told, slumping up at the stairs and yawning. His lack of bite at being woken so rudely was unnerving and Giles paused as he watched him go, frowning.

His current behaviour was getting odder and odder but he didn’t have a chance to think on it as he’d barely finished his cereal when the doorbell rang and Buffy and Riley stepped in on their own accord.

“Morning Giles,” Riley greeted him, almost warily, and he glanced around quite obviously in search of Spike.

“He’s probably upstairs,” Buffy let him know, her jaw stiff and clenched with anger. A moment later, Angel barrelled in with his jacket covering his head, smoking slightly though that stopped once he shrugged the leather off and threw it aside.

“Did you really think sunlight was going to stop me?” He snapped and Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Of course not. I knew you’d come,” She walked a little further in, standing by the stairs and looking up at them as though she could see through the floors at Spike, “I just thought I’d at least get a head-start.” She turned to Giles then, frowning, “Why didn’t you say Spike had been attacked?”

Ah. He paused, a little taken-aback, “Well, I didn’t know. Not at first.” He said, honestly, “And then he asked me not to tell you. Though I don’t know if that’s because he was ashamed at being taken advantage of or – some other reason.”

“Well, whichever it is, if it’s true then it’s shitty.”

“It’s not true,” Riley spoke up now, making it clear that this was an on-going argument, “I’m telling you Buffy, if any of my guys found a Hostile, they’d bag it and take it to the labs. Not beat it up and – ”

“I’m getting tired of Spike and I being referred to as ‘it’,” Angel cut him off and Riley turned to face him, glaring.

“What would you call yourselves?”

“He.” Angel said, stepping forward, “Them. Angel. Spike. Our _names_.”

“Angel – ” Buffy started but then changed her mind and sighed, leaning against the counter, “Okay. Semantics and decency aside, isn’t it possible some of your guys could do this? I mean, none of you were particularly nice to Oz when he was a captive.”

“That was different,” Riley ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, “They were under orders to do that. And I would never order that now, not when I’m in charge. We only attack those that attack first. None of my guys would run around doing this, Buffy. I know they wouldn’t.”

“Unless you’ve got some rogue soldiers,” Angel suggested, “Some that want to release pent-up energy. Ones that want a punching bag no one’ll feel sorry for.”

“Look, you accusing my guys isn’t getting me happier that you’re here.”

“I’ll be here if I want to,” Angel smiled, “My Childe is the victim here. And I don’t need your approval to be in Sunnydale anyway.”

“Well maybe you should, considering your history as a _Hostile.”_

“Do you have trouble remembering names? Don’t they train you in that?”

“They train me in _fighting_. You want me to show you that?”

“Is this macho argument going to go on any longer?” A voice spoke from the stairs, sounding both bored and tired.

Buffy sighed, “Tell me about it,” Before visibly startling and turning to see that it was Spike stood just a few feet away from her. She straightened and the rest of them all turned to look at him as well.

“Spike.” Angel stepped toward him only to pause when he was glared at, frowning defensively, “What?”

 _“What?”_ Spike repeated, angrily, “You _told_ them. I didn’t want anyone knowing about this, you git. I knew it would stir things up and I could handle it myself.”

Angel frowned harder, “Spike. Whatever happened to you, it’s awoken this – ”

“Yeah Giles filled me in on your theory.” He came down the next few steps and folded his arms across his chest, “And it’s dumb. I never had any shifting when I was human.”

As though he’d expected that, Angel mimicked his pose, “Well I have a source in LA that told me secondary powers can occur regardless of what was shown as human.” Spike looked at him, “And this is the only theory that makes sense.”

“The only theory so far,” Buffy corrected him, “You told me Drusilla’s power became stronger with her turning because of what you did to her. Spike’s already been Sired.”

“That’s what I said,” Spike let her know and Angel sighed.

“That doesn’t matter. He’d have to have been through something that would wake this up. Emotionally. It doesn’t have to have been being Sired.” He laughed without humour, “Hell, it could even be a broken-heart. Just something significant.”

“Well Drusilla dumped him,” Buffy offered, “But that was weeks ago.” She paused, “He did try to stake himself though.”

Spike gave her a dark look at that, especially when Angel walked toward him again, “You tried to stake yourself?”

“Piss off.” He backed away, walking around to put the sofa between them which put him beside Giles; who had been silent this entire time, listening.

 “Yeah, Xander and Willow caught him,” Buffy continued, “But that was apparently more because of the chip than anything else.”

“Could be just the chip then,” Riley said, “He can’t bite, can’t kill. There’s your trauma.”

“And your men beating him up has nothing to do with it, right?” Angel scoffed.

“ _No one_ beat him up,” Riley argued back, “He’s just saying that to hide how pissed he is about the chip.”

Spike hugged himself and started to turn, to leave the room, but Giles caught him by the wrist, “Let them run out of steam,” He murmured to him and he was stared at in surprise before that was wiped away.

“I don’t like being talked about like I’m not here.”

“No one does,” Giles said, “But they’ll stop soon. And running away isn’t helping.”

Their brief conversation caught Angel’s attention however, and he snapped his head around to face them, “Spike. Let me talk to you alone.” He said. Spike bristled but shockingly, didn’t shut him down, “Just to get the full picture. I won’t – ”

“I haven’t said _no_ , moron,” Spike cut him off and at that, Angel looked to Giles.

“Oh – um. You can talk in the spare room.” He gestured to the stairs and Buffy stepped aside to let them pass.

Spike led the way and Angel followed but once they were gone, Buffy and Riley continued their argument. Riley pointed out that Spike was a liar and that if he _was_ shapeshifting, they should take him down to the lab and see what they could learn.

Buffy told him that if they took Spike there and he escaped, he’d reign hell on them for it, and that she still didn’t agree with the Initiative’s work either. She agreed with attacking hostile demons but not in keeping them as guinea-pigs and experimenting on them, but Riley reminded her of how much information she’d gotten _because_ of the Initiative’s experiments.

“Besides, if it was some of your guys, the last place Spike needs to be is at the Initiative.”

“Except none of my guys did this.”

“Riley,” Giles interrupted them, “While your loyalty and faith in your men is admirable … do you not think it worth checking anyway? You’ve been wrong before.”

“Fine,” He snapped, still looking down at Buffy, “I’ll do a check of cameras and lockers and question them _just_ to prove none of them did anything wrong.” At that, he whirled around and stormed out.

Buffy watched him go with a frown, sitting on the stool by the kitchen and groaning into her hands, “Spike better not be lying.”

“I don’t think he is,” Giles told her, in a small attempt at comfort, “But it does seem likely that Riley’s unaware of any ‘rogue’ soldiers.”

“Ugh,” She looked up at the reminder of Angel, those being his words, “You could have warned me Angel was here, you know. He walked right in when me and Riley were – talking. Closely.”

Giles grimaced, “He just turned up here as well. And then rushed out. I didn’t really have time to call you.”

“How did he know? Some vampire-bond thing?”

“No. Spike called him.”

She blinked, _“What?!”_

“Well. He called and then changed his mind but Angel said he knew that it was him anyway and came to check. I suppose he thought that _I_ was in trouble. He hadn’t seem particularly interested when he found out that it was Spike who’d needed him though.”

“Well he changed his mind quick,” Buffy drawled, “Chewed me out for something I didn’t even know.”

Upstairs, they heard the brief sound of someone raising their voice, but it was gone before either of them felt the need to check. Around twenty minutes and a cup of tea later, Spike came back downstairs, shortly followed by Angel. Spike had his hand on Angel’s arm, pulling him back slightly, but he let go when they noticed.

“Well?” Buffy asked, “Feel enlightened? Story make sense?” Angel looked at her and whatever expression he had made her take a step back, her eyes widening, “Angel?”

He turned away, “Where’s Finn?”

“… gone. He’s going to question his guys, see if any of them really did anything.”

“Good.” At that, he pushed past her, grabbed his jacket, and walked out with it over his head. Buffy stared after him but once he was gone she rounded on Spike.

“What the hell did you say to him?” She demanded, looking both furious and panicked, and he glared at her.

“Nothing.” He snapped, only to suddenly recoil and glance down, “Though, you might want to stop him.”

“Why?”

“He’s pissed off.” He shrugged and though that wasn’t enough of an answer, Buffy understood and cursed. She ran for the door too, chasing after what would probably be a smoking-Angel. Unless he’d driven here.

Spike made to head upstairs again but Giles stood in his way, “No, no. I told you, running away isn’t helping.”

“I’m not running,” Spike sniffed, “I didn’t sleep all day or night yesterday and I’m tired.”

“What did you tell Angel?”

He was given a weary look, “What he wanted to know.”

“Which was?” Giles pressed, frowning, and Spike met his gaze.

“… what started this all off.” With that, he stepped aside and went upstairs. Giles let him go, thinking that over. In other words, he’d been honest with Angel about what had happened to him these last few days, and whatever it was had angered the other vampire enough that Buffy may now have to physically stop him from harming someone.

He knew Angel wouldn’t kill anyone, at least not with his soul anyway and not unjustly, but he was probably not above hurting someone in revenge. He wasn’t sure what that would consist of however but around an hour later, he got his answer.

Buffy walked back in, panting, and when she saw Giles watching her expectantly, she made a face, “He found a nest. Killed them all.”

So he’d gone after vampires then, despite the fact that they were very likely not responsible. Still, at least he’d left humans alone.

“Spike tell you what he said?” Giles shook his head and she sighed, “Angel wouldn’t tell me either. But he’s mad. Really mad.”

“Do you think it was wise to leave him alone?”

“He won’t do anything,” She said, sounding sure, “I know he could and I know he wants to. But I also know how he acts when he _can’t_ do something he wants, and _I_ didn’t stop him, so … ”

“Spike asked him not to.” Giles finished for her and she nodded.

“Guess so.” Pushing herself off of the stool, she went for the door herself, “I’m going to go study. If he tells you anything else, or if something happens, give me a call.”

“Of course.” He locked the door after her, not expecting any more guests and hoping that it deterred anyone else who wanted to simply walk in.

The house was silent after that however so he decided to put a Record on, sitting down with a glass of scotch and getting his guitar out. He played a few tunes absently, humming to them, only to remember his house-guest and stop. He’d rather not be mocked if he could help it.

Once he had however, slowly putting the guitar down, he heard something soft and quiet, a sound coming from upstairs. A sound he recognised.

He left his chair and went up toward the spare-room, the sound unmistakable the closer he got. Someone was crying, very quietly, but the door was open which let the sound carry once he reached it. He was careful nonetheless, used to crying being used as a trick so often in the Hellmouth, but when he saw Spike lying on the bed he relaxed a little and let himself worry instead.

Spike was lying on his side, his head covered in his arms, and he curled into a smaller ball when Giles neared him.

“Get out.” He choked, his voice wet with tears, but Giles sat on the bed beside his legs, “I mean it, Giles. Get _out.”_

Unfortunately for him, Giles refused to listen. His mind worked as he tried to understand all that had happened and what could possibly have made a vampire sob like this.

Spike had arrived at his house, looking haunted despite having apparently been shapeshifting for days before. So it had clearly not been because of that.

He’d been quiet, upset, uncharacteristically withdrawn, and now he’d told Angel the truth which had led to his Sire storming out into broad daylight to kill anything he could find. His Sire that hadn’t particularly cared about this situation until then, which meant that whatever had happened was awful enough to spur on that rage.

He’d not wanted anyone to know about the Soldiers’ attack but he’d obviously been able to swallow his pride to ask them for help when he’d first gotten the chip, so was shame a part of it? Or was he still upset about what had happened?

He said they’d tased him. Beaten him. Had that been all? He frowned as he thought, trying to piece it all together, and in his silence Spike lifted his head to look at him.

His face was pink, the pattern of his jumper imprinted on his cheeks, “… he told you. Didn’t he.” He croaked and though Angel hadn’t, Giles nodded. Spike pressed his lips together, visibly pushing a sob back, “Fuck.”

“Tell me.” Giles offered, his voice low. Spike turned his head away, shaking it, “Why not?”

“Because,” He looked annoyed at himself, “You hate me. And I don’t want to be told I deserved it.”

Still not quite sure what they were talking about, Giles took a leap of faith, “No one deserves it.” He said and Spike scoffed.

“That’s what you say to people with _souls_.” He said, “I don’t have one. Remember.” Giles glanced down, “It’s ironic though. I never – to anyone. You’d think if the Universe wanted me to feel karma, they’d do something to me that I’d done before.”

“I don’t think the Universe works with irony,” Giles let him know and on some instinct, he put a hand on Spike’s back, “And whatever it is, wouldn’t you feel better saying it? Aloud?”

Spike looked at him, “I can’t.” A fresh tear slid down his face but it barely made it past his nose before it was swiped away, “Look, I just want to be left alone okay.”

“To cry yourself to sleep?” Spike shrugged off his grip at that and he sighed, “I’m sorry. I really am only trying to help you.”

“I never _wanted_ help with this,” He snapped, “I thought no one would ever have to know. I thought – ” He wiped at his face, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling, “I thought Angel wouldn’t have cared so much, when I told him the truth. It isn’t like he’s never raped me before, even if it was as Angelus. I just wanted to know if it caused all this.”

A chill ran through Giles at those words and he froze, looking down at him. Raped?

His heartbeat must have stuttered at that revelation however because Spike snapped his head around to look at him in shock.

They stared at each other and then –

“You didn’t know,” He realised, his eyes wide, “Angel didn’t tell you, you – ” He sat up, pushing himself away, “You – _bastard.”_

Giles put a hand out to stop him and but it was knocked back. He tried again anyway, avoiding blows and putting his hands on Spike’s shoulders, “Spike _, Spike!_ Yes, I didn’t know, I’m sorry. I had no idea you – ”

“Let go of me, let go you fucking – ”

“I had no idea this was what those men did,” He held on as best he could, knowing that Spike couldn’t successfully dislodge him without hurting him and activating the chip, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” Spike scoffed, his hands on Giles’ chest as he tried to push him back, “Sorry someone finally decided to teach the vampire a lesson?”

“Spike – ”

“Sorry someone raped a _monster?”_ His face crumpled, with both the memory and with anger, “That they – they said it didn’t count. They – I don’t have a soul so I don’t count as anything. So what they _did_ doesn’t count. _I_ don’t count – ”

Giles pulled him forward, helped by how Spike’s struggles began to slow, “It’s alright.”

“Get fucked, Rupert.” Spike choked into the collar of his shirt, and then he was sobbing. Giles held him as he did, letting him cry as much as he needed, “I couldn’t _fight_ them. The – bleeding chip fired every time.”

He curled a hand into Giles’ shirt, shaking, and in this moment he wasn’t a vampire and he wasn’t 100+ years old. He was just a young man in Giles’ arms, crying in pain, and that was what he told himself as he let Spike sob himself to exhaustion.

He’d been raped, then. No wonder Angel had been furious. No wonder he’d stormed out wanting to kill something, anything, because he couldn’t kill the men responsible. It explained the trauma they’d been trying to find as well, though if what he’d said was true and this had happened to him before, he wondered what had been so different so as to awaken this power in him.

Angel would know more, no doubt, and now that they both knew they could share theories. He held Spike closer, feeling regret for how he’d treated him these last few days and unsure of how to react to that. Spike had said he’d never raped anyone himself and yet even if he had, would a demon deserve this? It wasn’t as though it was his fault he didn’t have a soul, after all.

God this was complicated, he wondered how Buffy had maintained her relationship with Angel, despite the soul actually being in the equation. He had still once committed atrocities and had murdered Jenny as well. And yet, Angelus and Angel were two different people.

Perhaps here, he was seeing William Pratt and not Spike, which made the entire thing a little less confusing.

After a while, Spike went still in his arms and he lay him back, standing and putting a hand over his head, smoothing the hair down, “Get some rest.” He murmured, leaving the room. Spike was silent, lying on his side and wiping at his face as he did.

He seemed oddly young with that and that only made Giles’ heart hurt a little more with regret.

As soon as he was downstairs however, Angel was there and he froze, realising that it would be obvious he knew something now because of his reaction. He’d planned to say something anyway but it was still annoying to be easily read, especially when he saw Angel shift his stance in surprise at whatever he’d detected.

“How is he?” He asked, watching as Giles passed him by to boil the kettle, “Giles?”

“Is it true?” He asked, wanting to check one last time.

“Is what true?” Angel sighed, sitting on the stool and leaning on the counter, “That Angelus raped him once? Or that these men did?”

Giles turned to face him, “Both.”

Angel looked at him for a long moment. “… right,” Looking down, he chewed on his bottom lip, sighing again, “Then yes. I – to both.” He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes dark, “Spike and Drusilla, they – after I Sired them I believed they were mine. To do with whatever I wanted to. I trained them, I taught them to kill, I took them hunting and I – well.”

It was hard to be disgusted by a man who clearly did not do the crime, and though he tried he knew deep down that it was the demon in him that had done this, which left his anger with nowhere to go, “And these soldiers?”

“Spike said there were three,” Angel told him, slowly, “They had a taser and holy water. He was targeted.”

“It wasn’t coincidental?” Giles asked, raising an eyebrow, “That they found him?”

“They found one of their only escaped and chipped vampires by chance, luckily armed with holy water and condoms. Yeah. Big coincidence.”

“Condoms.” Giles repeated, the word feeling bizarre on his tongue. “They – ? The rape was _planned?”_

Angel glanced up at him, “What did Spike tell you?”

“Nothing besides what was done to him. Which was just the word, really.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t say anymore. He’s not exactly happy with me as it is.”

“And that matters to you?” Giles turned when the kettle stopped shaking and poured the water into his mug.

“Yes.” The answer was short and blunt and it was obvious he wasn’t going to get anymore from it, “Has he eaten?” He then asked, nodding at the mug.

“Not while he’s been here.” Giles remarked, realising. “He wouldn’t be able to buy any either, and his crypt – ”

“He’s not been back there since,” Angel muttered, “He must be starving. I’ll go and get something.”

“Going out in daylight twice isn’t advisable.” Giles pointed out but he was gone within the next moment anyway. He let him go, sitting down on the sofa and nursing his tea.

What a mess. Many things made sense now, however. Spike’s uncharacteristic behaviour, his quiet moments, lack of honesty regarding the soldiers and the attack on his person.

He remembered that Xander had wondered how he’d known that one of his assailants had had a burn on his shoulder and Spike had said that he’d ‘smelt it’. He clearly hadn’t, he must have seen it when they –

He took his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Angel had also said that they’d been armed with holy water but he didn’t have any noticeable burns on him, though he did wince occasionally. Giles had assumed that that had been because of the pain of his shifting but perhaps he had wounds he’d kept hidden.

He frowned, knowing that that was more than likely and going to his kitchen to get the first-aid. He took it upstairs with him and knocked this time, waiting for a few moments, and stepping in.

Spike was asleep now, still curled into a ball, and the implication of lifting his shirt up to check for wounds without his permission didn’t sit well so he left the kit on a chair and went back downstairs.

Whilst he waited for Angel to return then, he decided to do a little more research on ‘souls’ and their meaning. He wanted to know what caused a person to be evil, as there were obviously those with and without souls capable of it. And there were also those without souls that were capable of good too.

Spike was capable of love, of sorrow, even without a soul. And Ethan was capable of destruction and trickery with his.

Was it truly so black-and-white?

And if it wasn’t, did that mean that Angel may be responsible for Angelus’ actions, ensouled or not?

He read a little more, his theorising giving him a headache, and the more he read, the more it became clear that he’d been subconsciously right. A soul was a person’s conscience. And it was dependent on each person.

A vampire could be ensouled and continue to do evil because their conscience wouldn’t oppose it, whereas someone that had been moral and good as a human may change their ways once souled.

Angel had once been a man called Liam, a man who clearly had a conscience and was burned by Angelus’ actions. He wondered what William Pratt had been like – many books told tales about famous vampires and their human-selves but Spike’s human past was vague at best and ridiculously fictional at most.

He opened another book only to jump out of his skin when someone suddenly barged in through his door and he stood, grabbing the nearest object as a weapon, before realising that it was Angel running from the sun. He put the lamp down then and crossed the floor to meet him.

“Sorry,” Angel apologised, clearly hearing his heart hammer from the shock. He had a plastic bag full of blood from the butchers.

“You could have gone up in flames at that store,” Giles commented.

“I asked someone to order for me. Paid extra.” He shook off his jacket and took one of the bags out, ripping it open and pouring the blood into one of Giles’ spare mugs. He then took it and put it in the microwave, warming it up quickly.

Giles watched him, putting the rest of the bags down on the counter, “Angel?” He waited until he was looked at to continue, “Do you remember what William Pratt was like? Before you turned him?”

Angel stared at him for a moment, turning away to look at the microwave when it beeped instead and not answering. Giles waited patiently as he took the mug out and went upstairs. He heard him knock, heard Spike wake and talk to him, and then Angel came back down empty-handed.

Thinking that he wasn’t going to answer at all, Giles made to stand only to stop when Angel finally did speak.

“He was soft.” He said, looking like the words were both painful and euphoric, “He was a poet. A bullied one. And he believed in true love and all things good and – idealisms. He was a Victorian with his head in the clouds and an aristocrat. He was also a bit of a mama’s boy, in all honesty. Adored her. Even turned her so she could be with him.”

“He _turned_ her?” Giles frowned, “What happened?”

“I don’t know. He never said. I always supposed that she’d turned on him afterward and he’d staked her but I don’t know the truth. Could be she just hadn’t survived the turn. She’d been sick, apparently. TB.”

“Ah.” Giles nodded, in awe of this new information, “So she would have died soon anyway.”

“Hence his turning her,” Angel said, “Drusilla wasn’t too happy about it, I’ll tell you that,” He sat down, smiling a little, “She’d complained to me about it a few days later, saying it was lucky his ‘mum was gone’ or she might have been ‘mean’.” He shook his head, “Spike went as William for years though, and kept his accent. I thought it was stupid. I kept telling him to get a new name, one that would strike fear, but I think he wanted to hold onto his aristocracy a little longer. He fed alright, but he never killed until five years in.”

“He didn’t kill straight away?” That was new, he’d always seen vampires kill as soon as they rose from their graves. “How is that possible?”

“Drusilla was there when he climbed out and she took him dancing,” Angel told him, “Then they visited his house, he turned his mother, which I suppose counts as a kill, then came to visit me. He was both scared and – curious about me. He listened when I ordered him, remembered me turning him, and I ordered him indoors mostly. Drusilla had killed regardless and she’d fed on her old church even with my order not to. William though … he listened.”

“So he didn’t kill until 5 years.” Giles shook his head, disbelieving.

“It happens Giles,” Angel smiled without humour, “Some vampires live off their Sires and are happy to. Especially if their human-selves hadn’t been particularly dependent. William had been one of those. He’d only killed when we’d gone to France and I’d told him I wouldn’t be feeding him anymore.”

“So he hadn’t had a choice.”

“Look, I already know that I’m the one that made him the monster he is. I forced him to kill until he enjoyed it. I was cruel to him until he rejected me and wanted to make his own image, becoming William the Bloody and then _Spike_. I kicked him out of the group when he went after Slayers and when I got my soul, I was even crueller. I hated what I’d made and when I looked at him – I remembered all the things I’d done.”

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound the creak of his house around them. “Your soul changed your perspective of him.” He tilted his voice though it wasn’t a question.

Angel sighed, leaning back, “Angelus loved William. He could have killed him if he’d wanted to, he would hurt him and torture him, but he loved him. But when I got my soul? Became Angel? I couldn’t stand the sight of him.” He shut his eyes, his jaw clenched. Giles waited until he recovered from whatever mood he’d gotten in and then he was looked at, “Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“I wondered whether we should do some research into ensoulment.” Giles told him, “Perhaps ensoul Spike. Bring William’s conscience back and – ”

“No.” Angel shook his head.

Stung at being shut down so quickly, he frowned, “He could be a huge ally if we – ”

 _“No.”_ Angel stood, suddenly angry, “The hell those soldiers have put him through and then you want to put over 100 years of remorse onto him? It’d kill him.”

“We don’t know he’d feel remorse.” Giles said, “I’ve been doing some reading – ”

“You wanted to know whether Spike’s soul would be good or not,” Angel cut him off, “And you wouldn’t suggest it unless you were sure. He’d feel remorse, maybe more than me, and it’d _kill_ him.”

“Well I’m not saying we do it straight away. We let him recover from this and then see – ”

“Darla.” Angel stood, his eyes wide and his face paling, and he stared at the stairs in shock. Giles turned to follow his gaze and saw Darla stood there, her hair untied and in her face, her hands shaking. She looked lost, afraid even, nothing like she had when she’d been with the Master years ago, and when Angel stepped toward her she flinched, “Darla. How did you get there, what the hell is – ?”

She staggered back, pressing a hand to her face and Giles raised his eyebrows in surprise, “… that’s not Darla,” He realised, standing and putting a hand out to stop Angel, “Angel, wait. It’s Spike.”

Darla, _Spike,_ looked at him at that and lowered his hands from his face, “I look – _Darla?”_ He asked, his voice exactly hers.

 Angel was rigid beside him, “Spike?” He tried and Spike glanced away, his new long hair swaying, “You’ve – all of you’s changed. Not just bits. How did you – ?”

“I woke up hurting,” Spike mumbled, pressing a hand to his stomach, “I didn’t know I’d changed, I just – I felt sick.”

Angel walked toward him, “Sick?” He put his hands around Spike’s face, lifting it to meet his, before letting it go in surprise, “You’re hot.” He remarked.

Spike managed a weak smile, “Yeah? Thought you hated her n – ”

“No Spike,” Angel frowned, “You’re burning up.”

“I know, you git,” He sighed, “I was joking.” He wobbled, dipping forward, and Angel caught him and lifted him into his arms. He lay him down on the sofa, looking both disturbed and worried.

“His clothes have changed too.” Giles remarked, joining him. Instead of the jumper and jeans Spike had been in, he was now in a white dress, tattered and stained with mud.

“This is – ” Angel darted his eyes over it, his shock and confusion building, “When we were in Scotland, years back, our group was attacked,” He murmured, “Darla – she’d been wearing a new white dress when we’d had to sleep in the barn. After we’d escaped.”

“She tore me a new one for getting us caught.” Spike remembered, sighing, “So I look like her from then? All of me?”

“All of you.” Angel put a hand to his forehead, “And you’re still hot.” He took his hand away, shaking it, “And you’re _sweating_.”

“I don’t sweat,” Spike told him, his words tumbling together.

“We need to get this fever down,” Giles said, “He’s slurring.”

“He can’t even have a fever,” Angel cracked, “He’s – dead. We can’t get sick.”

“Well clearly he is, and we can’t discuss it while he gets hotter.” Pushing past him, Giles went to get a flannel, wetting it and ensuring it wasn’t too cold before bringing it back and placing it gently over Spike’s forehead.

Angel went to get a glass of water, lifting Spike’s head up to drink it and giving him a stern look when he moaned and turned to refuse it, “Drink.” He ordered but when he poured, Spike choked and spluttered it out, “Okay, hang on.” He put the glass down, using his sleeve to wipe the water off of Spike’s chin.

He was panicking, Giles realised, and with a small lurch of shock he realised that he was too.

“I’ll call a doctor.” He decided, only to hear what he’d said and shake his head at the stupidity, “I mean – the clinic. For advice on fevers.”

“Good idea.” Angel nodded, distracted, hovering over Spike’s body, “I’m – I need to call someone too.” He looked at the landline, “I’ll go first, keep an eye on him. Please.”

Giles pulled a seat closer and sat beside Spike, waiting for the phone to be free. He overheard the names ‘Cordelia’ and ‘Wesley’ and wondered how exactly they would help the situation, though he supposed Wesley might have more access to Council books despite being fired as well.

When Angel was back, he left to call the nearest clinic and noted down all the advice, making up a pulse-beat when asked as he couldn’t measure Spike’s heartrate. Angel took his temperature at 105 degrees and rising which was apparently ‘very concerning’ according to the lady on the phone.

She recommended that if they couldn’t get the fever down that they would need to take him to ER urgently but only if her previous advice proved useless or if the fever spiked past 120.

Between them however, after at least four hours, Spike’s fever stayed steady and then gradually began to break. He started shivering and Angel wrapped him in a blanket, stroking his hair back, and with the diminishing of the fever, his features began to shift as well.

His body changed first, Darla’s dress shimmering into black and then splitting into a jumper and jeans. His face changed when the fever broke entirely and he sighed, his eyes shut with exhaustion. Angel continued stroking his hair, relieved and worried all at the same time.

His concern was touching but Giles couldn’t help but wonder if most of it was fed from guilt.

“Would he have died?” He asked, “Would he have dusted if that fever had risen?”

“He may have reached a temperature that would have resulted in that, yes,” Giles guessed, “But I really don’t know. It’s unprecedented, as far as I’m aware. Though Wesley may be able to find more from his books.”

Angel didn’t react to his admission at eavesdropping, nodding thoughtfully, “I don’t think this is a secondary power.” He said, “I think we were wrong.” He looked up, “I think this was done to him.”

“By who?” Giles raised an eyebrow, shaking his head, “The Initiative? Why would they want – ?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was right before. Maybe they wanted Spike to infiltrate other demons, pretend to be their friends, shapeshift his way around until he could lead the soldiers in to kill them. It’s a strategic plan. It fits.”

“So does trauma and secondary powers,” Giles reminded him, “Especially considering what happened to him.”

“He’s been raped before,” Angel shook his head, “I wouldn’t count it as trauma.”

“He was raped by his _Sire,_ a demon, _”_ Giles shot back, “These were humans. Humans that intended to hurt him and did. I believe they may have burned him too, with the holy water you mentioned.”

“He’s been through more than that.”

Oh for – “How would the Initiative have done this? They don’t have the means. Their chip is the most advanced thing they’ve made and that’s based on science, not magic.”

“What about Adam? Buffy told me about him.”

“Fine. Adam was advanced as well but he was built from demon parts, not changed or imbued with magic.”

“Then maybe they found a way to – ” Angel stopped, his head whipping toward the front door and when Giles looked he saw that Riley was stood there. He was wounded, badly, holding a hand to his hip and looking like it took all his effort just to stand.

“They did.” He managed, answering Angel’s unfinished question, “Find a way.” He collapsed a moment later, passing out onto the floor.

Buffy came as soon as she heard, angry that an ambulance hadn’t been called until she’d seen the wound and knew that they couldn’t have. Giles and Angel had tended to him on the sofa anyway, after Angel had taken Spike back up to the spare room to rest a little more, and now that the blood and so forth was wiped away they could see that the wound wasn’t fatal.

Just a hell of a mark and clearly painful. It was a bullet hole but the bullet had disintegrated and had been marked with Boxal Demon acid. A hospital would have had no idea how to treat it but Giles knew what would help and told Willow to fetch some on her way here. Riley had been beaten as well and his fainting had only been from pain thankfully; he’d not lost a lot of blood.

Buffy paced around as Giles mashed the ingredients that Willow had brought together, chewing on her lip, “Why is he on the sofa?” She asked, “Shouldn’t he be on a bed?”

“Spike’s on the bed.” Angel told her and she turned to storm up the stairs.

“Well he can get _off_ the bed.” She snapped only to pause when Giles spoke.

“Leave him there, he needs to rest,” He didn’t explain anymore and right now, she wasn’t curious enough to know more either. She left it and continued pacing.

“He must have been attacked by the same guys that got Spike,” She thought aloud, “Rogue Soldiers.”

“Just like I said.” Angel said and she gave him a look, “Sorry.”

“But why attack _Riley?_ Why not just lie? He’s their leader, he – ”

“Maybe they don’t want him leading them anymore.” Willow offered, “I mean he – they don’t operate the way they used to. Right? Maybe they don’t like that.”

“So they did the same thing to Riley that they did to Spike?” Buffy scoffed, “Why not just vote?”

Angel and Giles looked at each other, both clearly thinking the same thing, but Angel shook his head. Riley hadn’t been subject to the same attack, thankfully.

Xander and Anya arrived then, the former looking ready to both comfort or fight if need be, “What happened? Demon?”

“We don’t know,” Willow told him.

“He went to talk to his guys about Spike,” Buffy said and Xander paused.

“Spike? What about Spike?”

Buffy blinked, only to visibly remember that Xander didn’t know. She’d obviously told Willow in their dorm room, previously. “Oh apparently some guys from the Initiative attacked Spike before he started shifting.” She said and Giles stood, his mashing of ingredients over.

“And he did state that he didn’t want anyone knowing,” He reminded her but she was far more focused on the potion he’d now made. With her supporting Riley’s head, he poured it through his mouth, ensuring that it was swallowed.

“Is that it? That’ll stop it infecting him?”

“Yes. That should stop it. He’ll just need to rest and not pull the wounds.”

Xander stepped around, Anya still hovering in the background looking unsure, “Ouch. That looks nasty.”

“It’s an acid mark,” Giles explained, pulling Riley’s shirt down to cover the rather bumpy and ridged burn.

“So what happened?” Xander asked and they all looked at him, annoyed, “No I mean before this. I get we don’t know about Riley until he wakes up but, what? Spike got mouthy, he got attacked and Riley goes to talk to his guys only for the same thing to happen to him? What’s that about?”

“We don’t know why Spike was attacked.” Angel said, “But from what I saw from his wounds, it looked planned. They had holy water, they’d been looking for a vampire.”

“And technically, Spike’s harmless with the chip,” Buffy added, folding her arms across her chest, “They took advantage of someone who couldn’t fight back. And even if he is super annoying and a pain in my ass … I protect those that can’t protect themselves. Right now, Spike counts.”

_They told me I didn’t count._

Giles blinked, turning away to hide his reaction to her words, almost tuning Xander out as he spoke, “Okay. So why go after Spike then? Riley said they stopped trying to get him since he took over.”

“We think some of his guys went rogue.” Buffy told him, “Didn’t agree with Riley’s way of leading, or something.”

“And what, they couldn’t vote?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Buffy,” Riley shifted, waking, his voice barely above a whisper but she heard. She was at his side immediately, putting a hand on his arm.

“Hey,” She greeted, “How do you feel?”

“Like I drank tar,” He said, coughing.

Giles made a face, “Yes, well. You had Boxal acid in your bloodstream and that was one of the ingredients to treat it.”

“You mean I actually _did_ drink tar?” Riley groaned, trying to sit up and wincing when he hit his wound with his arm, “Ow.”

“Stay still,” Buffy chided him gently, “You’ve got a pretty bad bullet hole.”

“Yeah I know,” He grit his teeth, “Jacobs shot me. They knew I was coming – didn’t even let me talk.” He shook his head, “They did something, I don’t know what, but they’ve been working on some of Walsh’s old projects. They knew Spike was here, in your house,” He looked at Giles, “That day we came and the scanner malfunctioned? They’d been interfering with the signal.”

“Why? Because Spike would reveal them?” Giles asked.

“I don’t know. I think so. But if that was the case, then they could’ve just killed him. Which means they probably wanted him alive.”

“Or they couldn’t get to him with Giles and Angel around,” Xander said.

“Maybe.”

Angel stepped toward him, “What projects were they working on? What did they do to Spike? You said before that they’d found a way to use magic and science. How?”

 _“They_ didn’t,” Riley told him, “They found someone who could. A witch, I think. They mentioned someone called ‘Abigail’ but it could be a demon or human, I don’t know. But whoever it is, they’re responsible. They said – ” He hissed behind his teeth, pressing his hand to his wound, “They said they’d needed a candidate.”

“And they chose _Spike?”_ Xander frowned.

“Why?” Angel pressed but Buffy put a hand on his chest to push him back.

“How about we _don’t_ crowd the freshly wounded soldier?”

“I’m fine, Buffy,” Riley gave her a smile, sitting up a little straighter, “I need to say it now anyway, just in case they – ”

There was a bang at the door and it flew open, a cannister rolling in a second later. They all stared down at it in confusion until Willow asked.

“Isn’t that a smoke-grenade?”

The cannister popped open and Xander reacted instinctively, kicking it away, but by then it had already begun to spray the room with smoke, watering their eyes and making them choke. Angel didn’t need to breathe but his vision was still blurred, dark shapes pouring into the room with masks on and guns out. Riley staggered to his feet, blindly reaching out to stop them, and Buffy shoved one of them back.

“Everyone out!” She yelled, still attacking through reflex alone. Angel joined her, stopping the two that went for the stairs, whilst everyone else ran for the door. They were coughing and gagging, Riley held between Giles and Xander, but the door was shut before they could reach it and another soldier barred their way.

A second cannister was thrown and this one let a blinding beam out into the room. Buffy cursed, falling backward in both surprise at the light and from the kick that she’d been unable to dodge. Angel was dazed as well and one of the soldiers managed to get past him and stomp up the stairs.

He roused himself to go after him but the second got in his way and shot him in the shoulder, missing his heart only because he’d turned in time. He half-growled, half-yelled at the pain, grabbing his wound and backhanding the soldier away.

He went up the stairs then, panic in him, only to hear a gun cock and turn.

Willow was held against the last soldier, her hands at the arm that was wrapped around her neck, and there was a gun pressed to her head. Buffy was close, braced and ready, but holding herself back now that her friend was in danger.

“All of you. Behind the sofa.” The guy ordered. Anya listened immediately, giving him a wary look as she moved around slowly, and then Xander followed.

“Let her go.” Buffy ordered herself but Willow was yanked back in response, making her whimper.

“I said _go_ behind the sofa.” The guy repeated, and this time they all listened. Angel went last, growling under his breath, “Growl at me some more and this chick’ll get a bullet in her brain.”

“Don’t.” Xander pleaded, shaking his head, and Riley tried to pull himself upright.

“Hank?” The guy paused, “It is you, isn’t it?” He didn’t get an answer, “Look. Whatever’s happened, whatever these guys are doing, I know you’re not a part of it. It’s not your style.”

“Shut up Finn,” Hank snapped but there was hesitation in his tone, “Just stay there. We’re just here for the vampire. We won’t do anything after.”

“What do you need with Spike?” Buffy asked, her eyes glued to Willow.

“Spike?” Hank looked at Riley, “Hostile 17’s name is _Spike?”_ He scoffed, looking toward the stairs, “Isn’t that a _dog’s_ name?”

“Hank,” Riley tried to appeal to him again, “Listen, man. What are you doing here? These people are civilians. That girl in your arms is a student at our College. I mean – come on.”

“I told you,” Hank shifted back, still holding Willow, “We’re just here for the vamp. Not our fault you guys were keeping him here.”

“What do you want with him?” Angel asked, struggling to keep calm if only to keep Willow safe.

“Keep out of it.”

Angel ignored him, his voice lowering into something dark and primal, “You were there, huh. Did you have fun?”

“What?” Hank looked at Riley, “I – ”

“You must have. Just like your buddies here. Seemed like they enjoyed themselves.”

“Angel.” Giles tried to stop him from revealing more but Hank shook his head.

“No. No, look, whatever you heard, it wasn’t like that.” He said, “It wasn’t – they said we needed to cause him pain. I didn’t – I mean it wasn’t _personal.”_

“Personal.” Angel repeated, taking a step toward him, “Everything about what you did to him was _personal.”_

“Angel that’s enough,” Giles snapped but by now, everyone was focused on what was being said, each of them frowning.

“He needed _pain_ to wake the – ” Hank tried again but something thudded hard from behind him and he stopped, turning toward it. Angel reacted immediately and pulled Willow free, pushing her aside and grabbing Hank himself, holding him hostage instead.

Spike pushed himself up from where he’d landed, having been the thing that had thudded down the stairs, or more likely thrown, but he was grabbed himself and a needle was pressed to his neck.

“Let him go,” The soldier holding him barked, staring Angel down. The smoke was finally dissipating but not nearly enough to see their faces through the masks, “I mean it. I inject this, Hostile 17’s gonna have his blood full of holy water.”

“You do that and there’s nothing stopping me from snapping your buddy’s neck,” Angel told him, “And I already know from him that you don’t want Spike dead. So let him go and I let you leave alive.”

“Bullshit you let us leave alive.” The soldier fumbled in his pockets, Spike almost limp against him, which was concerning on it’s own but then another cannister was chucked to the floor. This time, however, Xander was a little more prepared and instead of kicking it he lunged forward and threw it through the window.

It exploded on impact, pouring smoke out into the street.

“Shit.” Hank twisted in Angel’s grip, “Sir, just go. Take Mackley and get out of here, people are gonna start crowding this place.”

“I don’t think so.” Angel yanked him back, shutting him up, and scanning the floor for ‘Mackley’. He must have been the one he’d hit before and was probably lying somewhere in this mist. “None of you are leaving.”

“Angel, we can’t keep them here,” Buffy spoke up, stepping around as well after having ensured that Willow was alright, “And if you want them to drop Spike, you need to leave the threats.”

She looked through the white, frowning when she saw that Spike was completely out of it now, his hair shorter and a dark brown with dyed streaks of red. There was a tattoo on his face as well, an intricate design all in black that curled around his cheeks to his neck.

That explained why he was unresponsive then. He’d shifted.

“Listen to your girl,” The soldier said, hoisting Spike upright when he began to slip, “Dammit. He’s out.”

“Then leave him. Unless you want to carry him out of here _and_ keep us back.” Buffy said, seeing an opportunity, but another of them rose from the shadows and joined him.

Mackley, and he only seemed mildly injured because he took charge immediately, “Here.” He said, taking his gun out and aiming it toward them, “Carry him to the van. I’ll hold them back.”

The first soldier didn’t hesitate, just bent and lifted Spike into his arms, heading for the door. Angel tried to get in the way but the gun reminded him that lives were at stake and Buffy’s tension beside him let him know that she felt the same.

In the end however, they didn’t need to do anything. Spike suddenly bucked in the soldier’s arms and in the surprise that followed, he rolled out of them and hit him in the face with a high kick, clearly having feigned his unconsciousness. The move fired his chip but it got him out of harm’s way and Buffy reacted almost immediately.

She took advantage of the distraction and knocked the gun from Mackley’s hand, slamming him into the wall and throwing it toward Xander to keep safe.

Willow stayed back to keep Riley upright, his face a sickly pale from the pain that he was currently in but he still remained standing nonetheless, if only to see if he was needed.

Angel threw Hank to one side and launched himself for the first soldier, taking the needle and syringe and crushing it. Holy water burned through his hand and the fact that the threat hadn’t been a bluff made him all the more enraged, and he shifted his face to attack.

Unfortunately, Buffy got in the way and pushed him back, “Angel, _no!_ He’s human!”

“He doesn’t count as human.” He tried to get to him again, darting forward but Buffy stood her ground.

“Try to kill him and I’ll have to stop you,” She lifted her chin, “Please don’t give me that choice.”

He stared at her for a long while before eventually letting his vampire face recede, turning away to look for Spike. Giles was already there, helping him to his feet and he still had a hand to his head from the chip’s reaction but as he stood, his features retreated back to normal.

Xander held the gun to Mackley and Hank, ensuring that they didn’t run, whilst Buffy turned to the only other soldier.

“Jacobs.” She said, coldly, “I’m guessing.” Jacobs didn’t move. “Want to explain what the hell is going on here?” She paused, waiting, but wasn’t answered, “No? You were pretty talkative before.”

“I only talk if I want to,” He spat and she raised an eyebrow, looking at Angel.

“Well okay then. I may not like Angel _killing_ you,” She said, slowly, “But I’m really not opposed to torture to get information. Especially on people who obviously use torture themselves too.”

Angel smiled at that, the gesture not meeting his eyes, and stepped forward, “And if you’ve done research, which I know you have, you’ll know that torture’s something I used to be an artist in.”

“Pretty famous for it, too.” Buffy added.

“Yeah. We know,” Jacobs scoffed, “Practiced on your boy there first, didn’t you.” He nodded toward Spike and instantly, like a trigger had been switched, Angel’s anger returned.

“Shut your mouth.” He snapped and Jacobs scoffed again.

“What? Don’t like the reminder?”

“What are you – ?” Buffy started but Angel growled over her, shifted and feral, and would have sunk his teeth into Jacobs in a second had Spike not reacted faster. He moved directly in the way, putting both his hands on Angel’s chest to keep him back and keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his.

Buffy stumbled, her own instinct having reacted but now that there was no need to, she simply gawked at what might have just happened, watching as Angel still tried to get to Jacobs like a rabid animal let out of its cage.

“Angel,” Spike held him in place, Angel’s growls almost animalistic now with pure rage, _“Angel, s_ top. _Stop.”_

“Yeah hold him back,” Jacobs taunted, “He’ll get over the guard dog routine when he remembers he was too late for it.”

Angel roared and Spike actually slid over the floor with the force of his need to kill. They were both using their full strength to force the other in the opposite direction, leading to them just being stuck in place but struggling against it, “Angel – _Angelus!_ Angelus stop it, _calm down!”_

Spike held his own, though his arms started to shake but when Buffy moved in to help he shook his head, meeting Angel’s furious gaze.

“Sire,” He whispered, his voice low, “Leave it.” Angel glared down at him, his teeth bared, “Please.” At that, he seemed to freeze, his eyes turning brown from their demon-yellow and the fight left him like a breeze leaving a sail. He sagged, putting a hand on Spike’s shoulder to ground himself.

“Spike.”

“Yeah,” Spike swallowed, “You calm?”

“I – ” Angel looked utterly remorseful now but then Jacobs laughed and he snapped his eyes toward him. He didn’t get a chance to reawaken his anger however because Anya grabbed the nearest lamp and used it to knock the man out.

“Shut up.” She told his unconscious body and just like that, the tension seemed to leave the room.

.

An hour later, Hank and Mackley were bound to each other upstairs and Jacobs was bound to the same chair that Buffy had once tied Spike to. Without their masks and gear, they’d been able to see that Mackley was close-shaven and had an ugly looking burn on his shoulder, which confirmed that he was one of Spike’s attackers.

Hank was young, appearing teenage-like beside the larger and stoic Mackley, but there was a scar on his chin that reminded them that he was also a trained soldier and hadn’t had any qualms about hurting someone defenceless.

Jacobs was still unconscious and his dirty blonde hair fell over his eyes, the rest of it pinned flat from the mask he’d been wearing. He was also wearing a necklace with the symbol of an upside down horn on it, its broken underside full of flowers that sprouted from inside; it was made of silver, about the size of an old English Shilling.

Giles had taken one look at it and had gone for his books whilst the rest of them had hovered around, waiting. Riley was on the sofa now though, having accepted pain-killers and the bitter realisation that he’d been betrayed by three of his men while Buffy paced and waited for Jacobs to wake up.

“Maybe you should leave,” She said to Angel as she did, not for the first time, “Calm down a little?”

“I am calm,” He told her, sounding it but not looking it, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Has he always been this dramatic?” She asked Spike, very clearly trying to lighten the mood and Spike shrugged.

“Long as I’ve known him.” He mumbled, sitting on a stool beside Giles and looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

To his credit, he hadn’t run, though Giles felt it was only a matter of time and assumed he was only still here because he wanted information too. Probably more so than the rest of them did.

Angel’s reaction to what these men had done had made it clear that something more than a beating had taken place and now everyone was curious and was visibly trying to guess what it had been without asking Spike himself. Unfortunately, he clearly knew that they wanted to and blamed Angel for it by way of glaring at him whenever their eyes met.

After a while, Giles shut the book he had and sighed. He couldn’t find the symbol anywhere.

“So is it just me,” Xander spoke then, “Or is anyone else super confused by all this?”

“It’s not just you,” Anya agreed, and Willow nodded.

All three of them not-so-subtly looked at Spike and he sighed, pointing toward Riley, “Ask Soldier-boy there. He knows more than me. I’m just the guy that got beat-up and started shapeshifting.”

They turned to Riley and Xander added, “Yeah, uh. You were saying about a project, before?”

“One of Walsh’s,” He nodded, “Before she put all her effort into making Adam. I don’t know what it is exactly, but she wanted to test it out on Hostiles first.”

“So – she was going to move on to humans after?” Buffy asked, frowning.

“I don’t know. It might have been for us. Maybe. I mean, we had chips and we didn’t know it, so … who knows what else she wanted to put in her soldiers.”

“Candy?” Willow offered, weakly, and they all fell into a brief silence.

“Well while we wait for this one to wake up,” Angel broke it, nodding his head toward Jacobs, “Why don’t we question the two that _can_ answer?”

“Already tried,” Buffy reminded him, “Tight-lipped.”

“You tried. Now I try.” He countered and she opened her mouth to protest but Spike got there first.

“No.” He hopped off the stool and stood in front of Angel, folding his arms across his chest, “You stay out of this.”

Angel blinked, taken-aback, _“What?_ I’m not – ”

“You kill them, we’re back to square-one,” Spike snapped over him, “You’ve interfered enough. Now you back off. Your pals back in L.A. could probably use you instead.”

Angel straightened, “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.” He said and Spike narrowed his eyes.

“If I’m okay?” He repeated and Angel folded his arms across his chest.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Spike gestured at himself, “When? When the Largo locked me in a car and drove it in the ocean? When Darla took her anger out on us for you getting souled? When that Rzepa git threw me into another dimension? And _you_ walked away?” He shook his head, “You’ve not cared before so don’t pretend to now. _Leave.”_

“Spike. That was different, it – ”

 _“Leave.”_ Spike repeated, his voice hard, and it was as though the entire room stopped breathing with the way they looked at each other.

“I didn’t have a soul for most of those, Spike,” Angel said, behind gritted teeth, “Why _would_ I have cared?”

“You cared about Darla. And Dru.” Spike said, tilting his head, “But you know what, whatever. I don’t care whether you cared or not. I just don’t want you to pretend and stick around because you feel guilty. You can piss off if that’s why you’re here.”

“Why would _Angel_ feel guilty?” Buffy asked, “If he doesn’t care now, it’s probably only because you’ve tried to kill his friends. And him.” Spike didn’t even look at her but the words clearly struck and was the clear cue he’d been waiting for.

“You know what? Fine. You want to stay, stay.” He pushed past and went for the door _, “I’ll_ go.” He slammed the door after him and Angel immediately made to follow but Giles stopped him.

“Uh perhaps, _I_ should go,” He offered, “I doubt he’ll listen to you right now.”

“Leave him,” Buffy said, “If these are the guys that attacked him, he’s not in any danger right now. If he wants to be alone, let him go.”

Giles looked at her and then at Angel, before glancing back again and sighing, “I won’t be long.” Buffy’s frown deepened but she stayed quiet as he left them as well.

Spike was still in the garden when he got there anyway, sitting on the wall, and he startled when he heard the door shut and jumped off of it, “I told you to _piss_ – oh.” He paused, “It’s you. … what do you want?”

“Expecting Angel?” Giles asked.

“Who else would come out?” Spike scoffed, patting his pockets and making a face when he realised he didn’t have any cigarettes on him, “Dammit.” He rolled his eyes, giving Giles a look, “Look I’ve not run off have I, so you can go back in. I just didn’t want to stay in there with everyone giving me the Owl eyes.” He chewed on a nail, “Bloody nosy lot.”

“They are rather, aren’t they,” Giles agreed, walking a little closer, “And I suppose you think Angel didn’t help matters.”

Spike glanced at him, wearily, “What do you want Watcher? I might have cried on you before but that doesn’t mean we’re in therapy now. I’m fine. I just want to be left alone.”

“Yes well. I needed the air as well,” Giles sighed, “And you made the perfect excuse.” Spike scowled at him, “But actually, while we’re here, I do want to ask.”

“Of course you d – ”

“The Largo? And Rzepa? I don’t recognise those names from your history.”

The bitter sarcasm that Spike had been about to snap vanished in his surprise, and he blinked, recovering only a second later, “Humans aren’t always around, Watcher,” He reminded him, “Who’s going to write down all your memos if no one’s seen anything? Most of you get it wrong half the time, anyway.”

“I thought we might.”

“Don’t know why you bother. My age is never right either, which is just insulting. Do I look like I was turned in my thirties? I don’t think so.”

“Well why haven’t you ever written a book about yourself? Corrected misconceptions?” Spike laughed, “Laugh if you want, but if they get it wrong forever, that’s how you’ll be remembered.”

“Good thing I don’t care that much.”

“You might regret that one day,” He was shrugged at, “What about your victims? Are they ever correct?”

“Well … yeah. Mostly.” Spike rolled his shoulders back, “I did kill two slayers. But your books say I got my name from killing aristocrats with railroad spikes.”

“And you didn’t?”

“I didn’t even _kill_ them in the first place,” He rolled his eyes now and Giles remembered what Angel had said. That Spike hadn’t killed in the first five years he’d turned, “I made a wish the same night Angelus turned me. I thought it was just to some beggar-woman. Turned out she was a vengeance demon. _She_ killed them, with their own words, not me.”

“Their own words?”

“One of them said they’d rather have a railroad spike through their head than to listen to my writings. Guess she thought it was ironic to kill them like that.” He sighed, “I just wanted them to have a bad day.” He made a face, “Suppose you think I should have been more specific.”

“Well Vengeance demons see opportunity to kill in most wishes,” Giles said, “You could have wished for them to be nicer and she would have had them walk across the road to apologise to you and get hit by a truck.”

Spike snorted, “Carriage would have been more likely, Rupert. Unless we were in one of the richer areas.”

“And were you?” More than curious now, Giles continued his questioning, “Our books have you as a middle-class citizen, but – ”

“Upper,” Spike corrected him, “Aristocrat, born and bred.” He pat his pockets for a cigarette again, as though he’d forgotten he’d already checked, and sighed, “My father’d been in the House of Lords ‘til his 50s, and then he was fired for being in debt. Left me and my mum behind and left the country. We were still Upper-class but – we weren’t respected after that. And I wasn’t exactly spewing out gold with my poetry either.”

There was something in his tone that made Giles ask, “Do you miss it?”

“Hell no,” Spike scoffed, “Too many rules back then, too much stuff out of your control.”

They fell into silence then and Giles considered suggesting they go back inside, now that Spike had clearly calmed down, to see if Jacobs had woken. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he saw that Spike was staring off into the distance, looking as haunted as he had the first night he’d come here.

Giles followed his gaze and saw a black SUV parked just down the road. It looked so out of place he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before and knew then that it was probably what these Initiative soldiers had driven here in.

Spike clenched his hands into fists and looked seconds from marching over to smash it to bits but that would cause unwanted attention, not to mention more of the scoobies’ curiosity, so Giles tried to think of something to say to cut that line of thought but Spike spoke instead.

“They knew,” He murmured, “Your books get it wrong but they knew. About Angelus and me.” He turned to look at him, “How?”

It was a good question. “I’m not sure. They might have something a little more updated than ours, giving them information.”

“No. They knew personal things,” Spike continued, shaking his head, “He said – that guy. Jacobs. He knew what Angelus used to do, he said it _to_ him but – _how?”_

Another good point, “… Riley said they might have a witch in their fold,” Giles suggested, slowly, “It’s possible she’s shown them memories.”

“But why? Why me? They obviously put a lot of effort into this so what made them pick _me?”_

“We’re planning on asking Jacobs that when he – ”

The door opened and cut him off, Willow stepping out to see them both stood there, “Um. You might want to get in here.”

Now that the door was open, they could hear why. Buffy and Angel were arguing, loudly and aggressively.

“For fuck’s sake,” Spike pushed away from the wall and jogged inside, Giles following him. Anya was behind the counter, looking small as Angel and Buffy stood just before her, shouting harshly at each other. Everyone else was keeping well back.

“You were the one who told me we should keep our lives separate!”

“Yeah and _you_ kicked me out of L.A. for ‘interfering’!” Buffy was red in the face at that, “This happened in Sunnydale so I deal with it!”

“Spike is my Childe, that makes this my responsibility!”

“Since when does your Sire-crap mean anything, Angel? What changed? Hm? Why are you suddenly all on team-Spike?”

“I’m not, I just – this is complicated. He was defenceless!”

“So were his _victims!”_ She jabbed a finger at him, “Yeah it’s bad what they did but Spike is a _vampire._ He basically slaughtered half of Europe, he doesn’t get cuddles when one bad thing happens to him!”

“This is why I don’t want you handling this, you don’t have sympathy for anyone that doesn’t fit your – I mean, this is just like with – “ He stopped himself, huffing and turning aside.

“Just like with what?” Buffy snapped, “Like with Faith?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Fine, okay. Faith and I grew up differently. She had stuff on her shoulders I didn’t. But she still _chose_ to do those things she did. She _chose_ to do evil. And so did Spike.”

“Spike doesn’t have a soul.”

“Which means he’s not saveable.” Buffy reminded him, “Isn’t that _why_ you wanted to help Faith? Because she still had one? Well Spike doesn’t and he’s not your – ” She must have then seen Spike in the corner of her eye because she stopped, looking at him. Angel did as well, his anger having clouded most of his senses, but now he just looked shocked.

“Spike.” He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out and in the end, he just sighed, “Where did you go?”

“To get some air.” Spike shrugged, his back rigidly straight, the only gesture he had that showed he’d been affected by this argument, “The Watcher and I were talking and – we think it’s strange how they knew personal things about me and you. Things not even books have written.”

Angel paused, his surprise at not being chewed out showing, “Oh. Uh. Yeah. I guess that is – that’s weird.”

“It’s more than weird,” Spike continued, “It means they chose me specifically. They put effort into it.” He had a hand behind his back, casually tucked into his back pocket, which meant that only Giles could see it shake.

He was angry or upset and hiding it.

“Could be I’m not the only one. That raises the stakes a little, doesn’t it.” Buffy looked at him, nodding, “Especially if the others aren’t chipped, or even demons in the first place. This shifting stuff hurts, bad. Could kill a human.”

“Do you have a point?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah.” He lifted his chin, “Well more of an idea, actually. Giles mentioned their witch might be using memories to give them information. Well we have a witch. And I’ve got lots of memories.”

“Oh, uh, if you’re talking about me,” Willow raised a hand to point at herself, “I – uh, I’m not really a witch, per say. I just. I can do spells, and everything, but this sounds pretty advanced and – ”

“You won’t be alone,” Spike told her, “Giles can do magic too, right?” He looked at him for confirmation and Giles nodded.

“Spike,” Angel stepped toward him, “Are you sure? I mean, if it can be done, you’d be revisiting memories of what happened.”

Spike narrowed his eyes at him, “Better than it being said aloud when he wakes up,” He jerked his head in Jacobs direction, “Don’t think he won’t, especially seeing as he knows it riles you up.”

Angel frowned, “I won’t apologise for caring.”

“Oh shove off, you git,” Spike snapped, “This has nothing to do with your fucking ho – ” He stopped, pressing a hand to his throat and looking wide-eyed for a moment. “Your – “ He frowned, visibly trying to swallow and struggling.

Angel immediately put a hand on his shoulder in concern but Spike ducked away from it and stumbled back. His body rippled, the effect almost dizzying, and his features began to change once again.

It happened in larger pieces now, not one-by-one, and just like when he’d been Darla his entire figure transformed.

In a single moment, Spike was gone and in his place was Buffy.

“Ow.” His body shook from the sudden change, still rippling before it stabilised, and then Spike, for it was still obviously Spike, swallowed and looked up at them all. His hair was darker, bangs over his forehead, and there were mascara-filled tear-stains under his eyes.

He was in black, a leather jacket, and had a necklace with a cross on.

“Oh my God.” Giles slowly stepped back, staring. This was Buffy when she’d first discovered the Master would kill her. When she’d been sixteen.

“This is – ” Angel reacted as well and Buffy gaped.

“Oh _wow.”_

Spike backed away from them, his eyes wide, “Don’t touch me!” He yelled when Giles made to reach for him, and the tone and voice was exactly that of Buffy’s all those years ago, “Just – what – ?” He grabbed at his hair, “Am I Darla again?”

“No.” Buffy approached him warily, “You’re … _me_. But like, me from ages back. When I – um.”

“When you found out that there was a prophecy for your death.” Angel finished for her, and she hugged herself, nodding, “Spike. Are you – is this a reaction to _me?”_

“What?” Spike glared at him, the effort lessened by the fact that he was now a vulnerable looking-Buffy, “Not everything is about you Peaches, I can’t even control this stuff!” He wiped at what have must been Buffy’s old tears from his face.

“Maybe not,” Angel forced himself past the strangeness of what he was seeing, “But this might be subconscious. You turned into Darla before. A memory of Darla that _I_ knew about. And now this.”

“It does seem connected,” Giles added and Spike whirled toward him, “More importantly, however. There’s a cross on your neck right now and it isn’t burning you.”

Spike paused, glancing down to see the necklace he had on, “Huh.” He reached up tentatively, touching it. Nothing happened, “Doesn’t hurt.”

“Is this just like the fever?” Angel asked Giles, walking toward Spike and reaching out to touch him, as though he was afraid it was an illusion. He put a hand on his head but Spike flinched, knocking it off, “He got sick as Darla.”

“I don’t – ” Giles blinked, not sure why he was suddenly forced to know all the answers, “Perhaps. I don’t know. This isn’t exactly precedented. I have absolutely no idea what this is. I doubt even the Initiative wanted this to happen.”

“Unless they wanted someone super strong,” Buffy said, “He’s me. Does he have my strength?”

Spike looked at her and then immediately punched her in the nose. Both of them yelled at the act, Spike from his chip and Buffy from being hit. Considering that Spike looked like a younger Buffy at the moment too, the image was ridiculously funny looking.

“Chip still works.” He groaned, holding his head, “And I don’t think that punch hit harder than it usually would.”

“Yeah,” Buffy rubbed her nose, glaring at him, “It’s still pretty weak.”

“Oh sod off, slayer.”

“Do I really sound like that?” She  asked them all, “Because no wonder intimidation doesn’t work until they see me fight.”

“Your voice has kinda mellowed a little,” Angel told her, “Matured.”

“Yeah but it’s still that high,” Xander said.

“And whiny,” Spike added, clearing his throat and trying to deepen it, rolling his eyes.

“And sometimes you sound like you have a cold,” Anya threw in as well.

“Alright, we are missing the point here,” Giles stopped them, “That cross isn’t burning him but he doesn’t have Slayer-strength.” He looked at Spike, “Spike. Do you – are you warm?”

“What?” Spike blinked at him but Angel made an impatient sound and grabbed his wrist, spinning him around and putting his fingers against it to check for a pulse. Spike tugged his arm back but Angel’s grip was firm, “Let go you idiot, I don’t have a heartbeat, I’d feel it!”

“You’re not _looking_ to feel it,” Angel said, “And you said this process hurts. You might not notice something – ” He stopped, his eyes dark as he stared down at Spike’s wrist like it held the secrets of the universe, “New.” He finished, his voice barely a whisper now.

Spike looked at him and then down at his own wrist, looking terrified, “No.” He shook his head, “No no. That – it’s not – ”

“Spike – ”

“Let go of me!” He suddenly yelled, pulling his arm hysterically now, “Let go of me, let go, get _off!”_ Angel looked startled and likely would have let go anyway but before he could, Spike tugged extremely hard and there was a crack.

He cried out and when Angel released him, he held his wrist to his chest, _“Fuck.”_

“Th – I felt that break,” Angel looked at Giles, overwhelmed, “I – I wasn’t holding him too hard but it – ” He looked back at Spike, “Spike I’m sorry, I didn’t – ” He stepped forward but Spike stumbled away from him, his chest heaving, and then suddenly Buffy was in front of him.

“Okay, let’s pause for a bit.” She put a hand out to stop Angel from getting too close and turned to Spike, gently taking his injured wrist and inspecting it. He let her, his face reddening with either fear or anger, “Okay. … It _feels_ … broken.”

“Yeah, thanks for your expertise.” Spike snapped, his face shimmering again until he was back to normal. Buffy looked at him, frowning, “What?”

“You look like you again,” She said, and he blinked, glancing down at his body, “But you still have a pulse.” She let go of his wrist, scrunching her lips together thoughtfully, “Is he human?” She turned to Giles, then Angel, “Has this – whatever they’ve done. Has it made him human?”

“It does look that way,” Giles said slowly, walking forward, “But he hasn’t always been, when he shifted.”

“Maybe that was just a warm up,” Xander said, “Before he turned completely?”

“Or his shifting is making us _think_ he’s human,” Anya said, “Like a chameleon.”

“It couldn’t fake a pulse, could it?”

“I don’t think so,” Buffy put her hands on her hips, “But – ”

“This is still broken,” Spike reminded them angrily, holding his wrist and glaring at them.

Giles started, “Right. Of course.” He walked past to open the fridge-freezer, taking out a packet of frozen corn and handing it over. Spike gingerly pressed it to his currently reddening-hand. “We might need to take you to a hospital.”

“I don’t have ID.” Spike reminded him but Giles shook his head.

“There’s a 24-hour clinic here that doesn’t require one. It’s a ten minute drive away,” Giles said, “I’ll take you.”

“We might not need to,” Buffy said, “If he changes again and returns to normal, he’ll heal.”

“He might not change again.” Angel said, “This might be exactly what the Initiative wanted.”

“Before Adam, most of Walsh’s work _was_ to neuter demons. Make them harmless.” Riley added, “We would never have been able to make them human but I don’t doubt she had the idea. These guys probably found what she might have been missing with that witch of theirs.”

“Then Spike might be right. He isn’t the only one – ”

There was a gunshot and both Buffy and Angel snapped their heads toward the stairs, seeing Hank stood there with his revolver in hand. He was bleeding, probably from whatever method he’d used to escape his bonds – which had weakened him and allowed Angel to launch up the stairs toward him and take the gun away.

He punched Hank hard, sending him crumpling to the floor and Buffy ran past to check that Mackley was still bound only to collide into him. He didn’t have a gun thankfully and after a brief fight, she had him unconscious.

Angel grabbed Hank and dragged him downstairs, throwing him into a chair to tie him up again, only to smell blood that he recognised and freeze.

He turned and saw Spike standing behind the group, looking ashy and shocked. There was rapidly growing spot of red in his side and he had his one good hand pressed to it.

“Shit – ” Xander swore when he noticed, diving forward to catch him when he tipped backward.

“Careful.” Angel barked but Buffy stormed past him before he could try to take Spike himself.

“Get him on the table.” She ordered, pushing every object and book off of it to make room. Xander lifted Spike up, ignoring how he bucked in his arms in protest and with pain, and put him down.

Spike writhed, trying to lift his shirt up to see his wound for himself, but Giles pushed his hands away, “I need the first-aid.”

“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?” Willow asked and Buffy considered it, only to run a hand through her hair.

“And explain all this how?”

Angel left Hank for Xander to tie up, his eyes dark once he calmed down and realised that the wound wasn’t as serious as he’d thought; it probably still hurt like hell for a human, though.

“No, no, don’t – don’t touch it,” Spike bat at Giles’ hands, trying to wriggle away, “Leave it.”

Giles ignored him, lifting his shirt up and grimacing as it stuck to the blood.

Angel hovered over his shoulder, looking down at it, “It’s alright, it missed you,” He said, soothingly. The bullet hadn’t hit him directly so the bleeding was just caused by fragments of it that had embedded into his skin.

“It hit this.” Anya commented, putting a hand to the wall. There was a crack in it and the bullet was lodged in the plaster, dust all over the floor. Spike must have been stood just beside it.

“I’ll need tweezers.” Giles said and Spike kicked him. He dodged it and refrained from getting angry, knowing that it was just an instinct to the pain he was in. He hadn’t been human for so long; this sensation must feel incredibly sharp in comparison to how he usually felt.

Riley limped toward him and nudged Giles out the way, “Here.” He took an antiseptic wipe and started dabbing it around the dotted holes in the side of Spike’s stomach, “I’ve treated this before.”

“I’ll do it.” Angel said, looking ready to take over, “I’ve had it done to myself plenty of times.”

Riley gave him a look, “I’ve done it on _humans.”_ He emphasised and Buffy slapped a tweezer into his open hand when she found one in the box.

Spike looked at them both, his chest heaving, but when Angel visibly decided to let Riley continue, he relaxed and thumped his head back over the table.

“What do we do with this guy?” Xander asked, pointing toward Mackley who was starting to stir. Angel joined Buffy in carrying him downstairs as well, tying him up and waiting until they were both aware enough to ask why they’d just tried to shoot Spike.

Riley worked as they did, injecting Spike with a mild anaesthetic, and moving his hands when they tried to push him away like he had with Giles.

After a few minutes, he started taking the bullet fragments out of Spike’s skin and releasing them from the tweezer into the trash-can. Spike twitched with every touch, grabbing Riley’s wrist but as that didn’t hinder him in any way, he let him keep a hold.

Halfway through the job however, he felt Spike’s gaze start to drill into him and looked up, “What?”

Spike looked away and up at the ceiling instead of answering but when Riley was done and had pulled his shirt down over the bandage he’d pressed there, he murmured, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Riley winced as he straightened, his own wound still aching, and he helped Spike to his feet, “You’ll be okay.”

“I’ve been shot before,” Spike scoffed, annoyed at being patronised, but Riley just smiled.

“Before you were turned?”

Spike just looked away with a roll of his eyes, making a face when his hip hurt as he walked. Hank was blinking at the group now, looking fuzzy-headed from the blow Angel had given him, but when he saw Riley standing over him he flinched back.

“Easy Soldier,” Riley raised an eyebrow, “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Yet.” Buffy added, lightly, “Though you might want to explain why you just shot someone. Now.” Hank looked at her for a long second before spitting in her face.

She gasped, putting a hand to where he’d hit and wiping it off on instinct, _“Ew!”_

Angel jerked forward and hit Hank across the face with his fist, scraping the skin off of the side of his nose with it, “Do that again,” He said, darkly, “I dare you.”

Willow handed Buffy a tissue to get rid of what she’d missed and to wipe her hands on, whilst Spike stepped a little closer as well, looking remarkably calm.

“Why did you shoot me?” He asked and Hank glared at him, “It’s not like I know any your secrets, there’s nothing I could tell.”

“You got plenty to tell.” Hank snapped.

“Like _what?”_

But Hank was panicked now, his anger feeding into it, “Look, just shut up, okay! I’m not going to jail for this! I’m _not.”_

“I hate to break it to you pal,” Xander said, “But shooting people tends to get you there.”

“He’s not _people.”_ Hank spat and Buffy threw her balled up tissue at him.

“He is now,” She said, “And if the police _did_ come over, he’d be human to them too. And you _would_ go to jail. So why shoot him?”

Hank just pressed his lips together, lifting his chin and looking stubborn. And he probably would have kept it up too, but before any of them could get angry at his arrogance, someone else started to laugh.

They turned to see Jacobs sitting up a little straighter in his chair, laughing deep in his throat, “Man you people are so fucking full of yourselves.” He rolled his shoulders, “We did you a favour and here you are, acting like we killed a puppy.”

“A favour.” Buffy repeated, narrowing her eyes, “You mean … making Spike human.”

Jacobs snorted, “He’s not human,” He said, “Never will be.”

“You better start making sense right now,” Angel growled but Jacobs looked completely unfazed.

“Sorry, am I speaking too fast for you?” He asked only to blink when Anya lifted the lamp she’d hit him with before again, “Hey, hey! Back off!”

“Anya wait!” Xander intercepted her, “We need him awake.”

“He’s a pig.” She argued, matter-of-factly, “I’ve cursed guys like him for years, I know how to tell them apart. We should kill him.”

“No one’s killing anyone.” Buffy said.

“I don’t know. I think he deserves it.” Angel tilted his head, ignoring how she glared at him at that. Spike pushed past them both to face Jacobs head-on however, crouching to his level. He shut his eyes for a moment when that clearly hurt his wound but ignored it and glared.

“What did you do to me?” He asked, his face hard and set, “Why do I keep changing into different people? How the _hell_ is that doing anyone any favours?”

Jacobs looked at him like he was dirt, “We changed your DNA, Hostile. You did the shifting shit yourself.” Spike narrowed his eyes, “We made a vampire that can go out in the daytime, can pass as human, but still needs blood. And can still dust.”

“What’s the point of that?” Riley asked, “He’s still a threat, what _favour_ is that doing anyone?”

Jacobs sighed, put-upon, “The chip already stops him killing but the blood-lust reminds him that he’s not human. That he’s less-than,” Spike growled low in his throat, “Oh you know you are, sweetheart.”

Spike bristled, clenching his hands into fists, “Don’t call me that.” He snapped.

Jacobs smiled slowly, looking away from him back to Riley, “We used a witch to find vampires with untapped secondary powers and the nearest one to us was Hostile 17. Walsh had bits of a method to stop demons that could go out in the sun, make them nocturnal only like vampires. We just perfected and reversed it.”

“Why?” Riley asked, folding his arms across his chest, “You’re still not saying _why.”_

Jacobs scoffed, “You have any idea how useful a vampire could be to the Army? To us? Without sunlight and shit killing ‘em, and with a chip and some training, they’d be perfect soldiers. Hell, they’re killing machines anyway, give them a cause and we’d win every war.”

Spike looked up, staring at Angel for a moment like he’d just realised something, “Submarine.” He murmured and Angel frowned, nodding.

Jacobs looked between them, “What’s that?” He asked and Angel glared at him.

“Oh nothing. Just comparing you to the Nazis.” Jacobs opened his mouth to protest that but he was cut off, “Don’t bother arguing against it. You aren’t the first people to have this idea and the Nazis were pretty close to doing it back in the day.”

“Why give him a heartbeat?” Riley asked before Jacobs could argue anyway, “What does that do? You want to remind him he’s a demon, but you restart his heart?”

Jacobs paused, “He’s not supposed to have a heartbeat.” He said.

Spike narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest, “Well I do. Right this second.”

Looking at him, his blasé exterior gone now, Jacobs shifted in his bonds, “Well. That’s interesting.” He said slowly, “Guess that’s why you thought we turned him human.”

“So what, this wasn’t you? You just wanted to turn me into a soldier?” Spike asked, “No shapeshifting or humanising. Just putting me into daylight and training me?”

“No.” Jacobs smiled, “We wanted to know if we could turn _vampires_ into soldiers. You? You were going to be guinea pig first, then a bitch second.”

Spike stared at him, looking shocked for a moment, before hitting Jacobs hard. “Fuck you.” He hissed and Jacobs barked out a laugh.

“We tested sunlight and shit on you and you still kept burning up. The witch to told us to ‘activate’ it. Cause you enough pain that the powers and the serum woke up in you.” He leant forward, “Guess I liked causing that pain. I know you did.”

Spike hit him again, “Fuck. You.”

“What? You going to deny it, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you!” He was shaking now, his hand raised to hit Jacobs once more but Buffy caught it and pulled it down to his side. He turned to glare at her but paused when he saw the look on her face. She lifted a foot and slammed it into Jacob’s face, breaking his nose and sending him unconscious a second time.

Her face cold and set, she let Spike go and turned to Hank, watching as he stared up at her wide-eyed, “Jail?” She asked, “You’re scared of jail?”

“Please – wait. It wasn’t me, it was Jacob’s – ”

“You should be scared of _us_.” She kicked him as well then, sending him crashing down to the floor, chair and all.

They all stared at her as she turned to face them and Anya folded her arms across her chest, “I told you they were pigs.”

Buffy ignored her, “Spike,” She stepped toward him, her anger mingling with concern but she didn’t look sure of what to say, “Are you – ? I mean – ”

Spike looked at her and then at the rest of them, saw how they watched him, and his chest rose with panic. He stepped back, away, and then turned and ran for the door.

Angel went to go after him but he stopped, not entirely sure if he should. Buffy lowered her eyes for a moment, then looked at him.

“Why didn’t you say?” She asked softly and he shook his head, wordlessly reminding her how Spike had just fled the scene, “Right.”

Xander looked between them, “Well hey, hang on. I mean we don’t _know_. He could have meant anything. And Spike’s run off twice already, it could be – ”

“Xander,” Giles stopped him and Xander gaped for a moment, swallowing loudly.

“Shit.” He whispered, looking away with clear disgust and discomfort. Anya put a hand on his back but didn’t stop glaring at the three unconscious men before them.

“Riley.” Buffy suddenly called and the guy froze, his hand on the door.

“He’s got a broken wrist and a bullet-wound, Buffy,” He said, “And my guys did this.” He looked at Angel then, “I’m so sorry.”

Angel just nodded slowly, looking at Jacobs, “He’s lying about the soldier-thing,” He said, “That’s not what they wanted. Probably what he told the other two but …”

Riley clenched his jaw, “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Angel gave him a long look, nodding again, “Just make sure he’s okay.”

“I will.”

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Be aware of tags.

.

Spike hadn’t gone far.

Despite having just learnt that he could walk in the sunlight, he’d stuck to the shadows anyway, probably out of part habit and part-disbelief that he’d not still burn up. He’d ended up at the old bus station, sitting inside one of the abandoned offices with his back to the window.

Riley had come here to train a few times himself, the new station now much further away so no one really came this way and the entire area was usually empty too. Occasionally he’d find some demons squatting and would put an end to that as well but mostly, it was just a quiet place to do laps and push-ups.

He walked through the empty lot toward the office-space and Spike looked up to see him step over some broken glass into the room he’d holed himself in.

“Hey,” Riley greeted him casually, looking around. He’d usually avoid the offices but now that he was here, there wasn’t much to see. It was a standard, one-person seating area, with a few filing cabinets and a single desk. Spike was seated atop of it, his broken wrist cradled in his lap.

“What do _you_ want?” He asked, his surprise melting into a scowl, “Shouldn’t you be back there, declaring your soldiers’ innocence?”

Riley stepped toward him, just to see him a little clearer, but Spike reacted as though threatened. He grabbed the nearest thing he could reach, an old phone, and held it ready to throw, “Stay the hell away from me!” He warned.

Riley immediately held both hands up in a placating gesture, “Sorry. I just – I need to check your wrist.”

Spike narrowed his eyes, holding the phone tighter. “My wrist.” He repeated.

“Yeah. You broke it.” Riley reminded him and Spike’s eyes flashed.

 _“I_ didn’t break it,” He snapped, “Angel did. After your fucking soldiers _messed_ with my _DNA.”_ He said the last part mockingly, imitating what Jacobs had told them.

“Right,” Riley agreed, “But it’s still broken. Someone needs to take a look. My car’s back at the house, I can – ” He ducked when the phone was finally chucked at his head.

“I’m not going _anywhere_ with you, asshole.” Spike yelled, “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Riley straightened, keeping calm. He’d been trained before to talk people down from ledges and so on, talk soldiers away from a gun, and right now that sort of behaviour seemed relevant.

He let Spike keep the conversation, “Okay.” He shrugged, “It’s up to you. I can go and get Angel, if you’d rather.”

“I’d rather eat shit.” Spike let him know and he nodded.

“Fair enough. So how about Giles?” Spike looked at him, “Giles could take you. He offered before, right?” Spike still didn’t say anything, just pressed himself against the window behind him, which Riley took as affirmation that he was okay with that, “Alright then. I’ll go and get him.” He took a step back, “You’ll stay here?”

“How do I know you won’t come back with more soldiers?” Spike asked, glaring.

Riley paused. It was a fair question. He felt in his pockets for the scanners they used and tossed it over, “Use this. I show up as green on it and Giles is human so he’ll be orange. If any more dots appear on that screen, you can get the hell out of here. Red is demon so hide regardless if they show up.”

Spike picked the scanner up and looked down at the screen. He checked that Riley showed as he’d said and then watched as the dot moved when he stepped out of the office. He sat back then and Riley left him behind to head back to the house.

He barely made it past the corner however, when he bumped into Giles himself. He stumbled, blinking, “Uh.”

“I saw which direction you went in and followed,” Giles explained before he was asked, “I thought Spike might be a little more receptive to me than you but I’m afraid I got a little lost on the way.” He nodded behind him at an old Ford, “Possibly because I decided to drive, not walk.”

Riley smiled, “Good timing. I’ve gotten Spike to agree to go to a clinic but he won’t go with me. I was actually on my way to get you.”

He led Giles back through to the station and into the office. Spike stood when he saw them, wincing when he pulled at his wound and holding his wrist to his chest.

“Right then,” Giles looked at him with pursed lips for a moment before shaking his head, “The clinic isn’t far. Shall we?”

Spike glanced at Riley before following, staying close to Giles which revealed a lot about how he trusted him at the moment. It was bizarre to see but Riley supposed it made sense considering everything that had happened. Giles had also known more than them the entire time as well.

They climbed into the car, Spike in the passenger side whilst Riley got into the back, and Giles drove them down the street. The car rattled as it went, slow but drivable, and Spike scoffed.

“Would it ever kill you to get a proper car?” He asked. Giles rolled his eyes, watching the road instead of answering and Spike looked put-off at that, turning to look out the window with a frown. Each time a flash of sunlight came through, he flinched, only to then react with wonder when he wasn’t burned.

He held a hand up and twisted it this way and that, watching as it refused to even smoke. Riley caught him smile in his reflection but it was gone a moment later.

They drove on for a while in silence, the streets gradually getting emptier and emptier, until Giles eventually stopped them outside what looked like a graffitied tattoo parlour.

“Uh, Watcher,” Spike looked up at it, “I don’t think ink is medically advised on a broken wrist.”

Giles gave him a look, getting out of the car, “The clinic is downstairs,” He said, “They’re not official but I’ve used them a lot before for more … discrete wounds. They’ll do for this.”

“If you say so.” Spike muttered, getting out as well. Riley followed, frowning up at the building. It looked genuine enough but something didn’t sit right. He wasn’t sure what however, and jogged to not be left behind, walking into the parlour with the other two in front.

There was no one inside at the moment but Giles walked around like he was a regular, stepping around the chairs until he reached a door at the end. There were stairs behind it and he walked down them with a confidence that showed he knew he’d be welcome to.

Spike looked at Riley again and then at the room, frowning himself for a moment before shaking his head and walking after Giles. Riley shut the door after them, stepping down until they reached another one but before Giles even opened it, he realised what hadn’t been feeling so right.

He recognised this place. Walsh had taken him here almost a year ago now. Just the once but he remembered. It was one of her secret labs.

“Giles. I don’t th – ” He started but Spike took a sudden step back into his chest, staring down the hallway that Giles had just taken them down to. He clearly knew it as well and Riley realised that this was probably where Jacobs and the others had experimented on him.

As though tranced, Spike turned to stare at Giles, a shocked look of absolute _hurt_ on his face, “Wh – ?”

Giles looked at him impassively before suddenly taking out a black tube and jamming it into Spike’s side, right over his bullet-wound. He shuddered with a cry when the tube crackled, electricity thrumming through him until he fainted from the pain, falling into Riley who automatically caught him.

“Giles what the _h_ – ?” He gasped, beyond shocked himself, only to watch as Giles’ face began to shimmer.

It bubbled, the skin changing tone into something pasty and grey as ridges formed around the cheeks, and the eyes darkened and narrowed into demon yellow. Once the shift was over, it was a vampire that stood before him and he let Spike go in his panic.

“Shi – ”

The vampire took advantage of his confusion and lunged for his neck, pushing him into the wall and biting down into his skin.

He tried to fight it off but he’d been taken by surprise and each gulp of his blood that it drank weakened him until his own vision started to dot black and he fell to the ground when he was released. He felt woozy and sick, everything blurry and flashing like he’d been drugged at a rock concert.

He could barely move but before he lost consciousness, he saw Spike’s body being dragged away and he tried to reach out, to do _something,_ but he may as well have been made of lead. A thrumming in his pocket startled him a second later and let him know that someone was trying to reach him on his cell but he couldn’t have pulled it free to save his life.

It stopped vibrating the moment he sank into darkness.

.

“He’s taking too long.” Angel paced, regretting his decision to let Riley go after Spike. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Spike wouldn’t have wanted to have seen him, or anyone really, but Riley would have tried his hardest to make amends for what his men had done.

He was a good man and good men did that. But now he wasn’t so sure.

“Spike could be anywhere,” Buffy argued, “He probably just can’t find him.”

“Then why isn’t he answering his cell to tell you that?”

“I don’t know Angel!” Buffy snapped, “He’s hurt too. Maybe something happened.” She chewed on her lip, “We shouldn’t have let him go alone.”

Giles shook his head, “Spike would have fled if he felt he’d be outnumbered.”

“Then maybe you should have told me about this sooner,” Buffy rounded on him, “If these – _men_ did that to him then I should have known. I could have – ”

“Could have what?” Angel asked her, “Don’t you think I asked myself that too? It was already done. The least we _could_ have done was to keep it a secret for him. It’s what he wanted.”

“Well you did a great job with that,” Willow commented, “Going all growly and stuff and making us think there was maybe more going on than you said.”

“This isn’t helping.” Giles cut all three of them off before they could continue to argue, “We need to find Riley and Spike and then get to the bottom of all this.” He looked at Angel, “You said Jacobs could be lying about his true motivations. Why?”

Angel shrugged, “I know a well-sold lie when I hear it,” He said, “And I know he’s said this one a lot, probably to his two friends here. He knew that Spike would have a heartbeat too, he wasn’t too surprised when he learnt that.”

“Okay so we’ve got two soldiers who think they’re making a vampire army and one creep who has his own agenda … but we don’t know what it is.” Buffy summarised.

“It could have something to do with that necklace he has.” Anya said, “Giles looked at his books for it.”

“Yes and found nothing,” Giles reminded her, “Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s mystical. It’s not in any of my historical or mythological files.”

“What about the Council?” Willow asked, “I mean – they always have more info right? I know they don’t like to give it out unless the world is ending – ”

“Not even then.” Buffy added, making a face.

“Well the world isn’t ending here,” Giles reminded them, “So there’s no reason why they’d give anything to us.”

“But a vampire army sounds pretty _dire.”_ Willow continued, “Couldn’t it be worth a shot?”

“I don’t get it.” Xander spoke up, standing in front of Jacob’s unconscious body with his arms folded, “I mean. If he wanted these guys to think he was making an army,” He pointed at Hank and Mackley, “Then why only have the one vampire?” He frowned, “Like we already know the Initiative did things in bulk. They didn’t know if the chips worked but they put it in more than one demon to test it out.”

Buffy looked at him, visibly thinking that over, “Xander’s right. We already thought there might be more but it’s probably true. We could be looking at the possibility of more vampires able to go out in the sun.”

“And judging from Jacob’s big show of ‘surprise’, Spike’s the first to show a heartbeat,” Angel added, “Which means if there are more, they’re still demons. Not turned human.”

“And didn’t he say they only went after vampires with secondary powers?” Anya asked slowly and Buffy looked at Angel with a flash of urgency.

“We need to get out looking. Now.”

.

Riley woke to a banging migraine and a freezing cold cheek. He groaned, trying to roll over but everything felt far too loud and far too bright. There was an IV sticking out of his arm, blood flowing through it, and though his first instinct was to rip it out he knew that it was giving to him, not taking away.

He pawed at it nonetheless, gasping like a fish out of water through the pain he was in.

“Jacobs wants you alive.” Someone spoke and he turned his head away from the ceiling to the metal bars of the cage that he’d been put in. The vampire from before stood right outside it, his arms behind his back like a boy-scout. He didn’t offer anything else so Riley tried to pry his lips apart, to ask what the hell was going on himself, but he could barely move.

Looking past the vampire, he could see another cage and saw Spike strapped down to a mattress on the floor within it, still unconscious.

He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling stupid and helpless. Giles would never have been able to have to found him near that station, and if he’d been following, he’d have known. He’d been tracked and lied to and he felt like such an idiot for not checking what his instincts had been trying to tell him.

Giles had seemed so real, however, and he must have showed as orange on the scanner for Spike to have willingly followed, though he knew that they could be interfered with now. He’d just assumed that they’d gotten the masterminds behind this already and hadn’t worried about that.

Clearly there were more of them and Spike hadn’t been the only vampire experimented on. He wondered how long this one had been trained because he was obviously trusted to do this kind of work on his own.

As soon as he thought that however, he heard a door swing open from somewhere out of his peripheral vision and a moment later Mackley stood before his cage, smiling with his thumbs hooked in his belt.

Riley swallowed, staring. How? He’d _escaped?_ Were Buffy and the others okay? He couldn’t have gotten here so fast though, how had he – ?

He paused, cutting that train of thought off and thinking back through everything that had happened instead. He thought about the attack at the house, about Mackley, Hank and Jacobs. Out of everyone, Mackley had been the most quiet. He’d been focused, efficient, and less conspicuous than the others. He’d been cold, out of character, but he hadn’t thought of it like that until now because the whole situation had seemed so outrageous anyway.

He knew now though and his face burned when he realised what must have happened and Mackley’s smile grew when he noticed.

“Figured it out, have you.” He drawled, lifting a hand and tapping the vampire beside him on the head, “Go keep an eye out.” It was an order and the vampire obeyed without question.

Riley followed it with his eyes before returning back to Mackley, struggling to speak, “How – how did you – get them to – to shift?”

“The shapeshifting?” Mackley raised an eyebrow, still smiling. He gestured at Spike, “17 gave us the idea. His secondary power awoke it so we took that and put it in our new soldiers. Trained them to watch their target and assume similar behaviour.”

“Trained.” Riley repeated, every breath an effort.

“Yeah. Some of them took _months_.” Mackley’s smile grew, “Right under your nose.” He leant a little closer, “See Finn. While you were off cuddling up to your slayer, we got to doing some real work. Finishing what Walsh started.”

“Walsh was _killed_ – by her own mistakes,” Riley spat, “Not much of a – of a role-model.”

“Better than you, _sir.”_ Mackley countered, taking out his baton and twirling it around his fingers as he spoke, “You didn’t even realise you had a vampire tied up in my place.”

“The – smell.” Riley realised, remembering that neither Angel nor Spike had noticed anything strange about what they’d thought had been Mackley either, “How – ?”

“Abigail.” Mackley answered, deliberately vague. “She’s been around a _long_ … time. Knows more about magic than most. She knew how to awaken all this shit, knew what Walsh had been missing.”

“Did she – get you to _rape_ – all the vampires here, too?” Riley bit out and Mackley looked at him, his smile fading.

“That was Jacob’s party,” He said, “17 only. Though I wouldn’t call it rape,” His smile returned, “Necrophilia maybe.”

“You took advantage of someone who – couldn’t fight back.”

“And I had a great time doing it,” Mackley didn’t rise to that bait, “Get him on his stomach, he’s just a skinny pale-woman with a soft ass.” He turned toward Spike’s cage and knocked the baton against the bars, “Even sounds like one when he’s hurting.”

“You’re disgusting.” Riley let him know and Mackley grinned, his eyes cold.

“Well. I’m not the one who’ll be torn to bits by his Sire.” He said, “He won’t find me. But he’ll find you.”

“Except I never – did anything.”

“No.” Mackley agreed, turning toward the doors and watching as they opened and someone else walked through, “But he will.”

Riley looked through the bars at his own face, swallowing through the sickening realisation of what they were going to do, “No.”

The vampire tilted his head, his stolen features exactly the expression that Riley would have when he looked in the mirror to shave. He’d been watched, he grasped. They’d watched him in the barracks and in the labs.

“We need a scapegoat,” Mackley continued, “And when the Sire kills you, the slayer won’t forgive that, and we’ll be gone before their little war ends.” He folded his arms across his chest, “No hard feelings though, Finn. Really. It’s nothing personal.”

“Isn’t it?”

Mackley shrugged, “Yeah maybe. I never did like you.”

With that, he walked out and the vampire followed him. Riley watched them leave, his chest heaving, and he felt sick and angry and _cold_ with what he’d just learnt. This had all been happening for a lot longer than he’d thought and if Spike had been the first victim, then this hadn’t just occurred within the last few days.

Mackley had said months. How could he have _missed_ that? He grit his teeth, looking across the floor toward Spike and trying to wriggle toward the bars.

He pressed his lips together, curling his fingers in to see how much strength he had, but they were still stiff and unresponsive. He gave up and decided to try and wake his cell-mate up instead.

“Spike.” It was barely a whisper but it echoed nonetheless _, “Spike.”_

He didn’t get a response but he didn’t stop trying, whispering for more than an hour it felt, until eventually he saw him twitch over the mattress.

“Spike!” He saw his eyes open, saw him realise where he was and start to panic only to zone in on him and freeze, “Hey.” Riley held his gaze, “Hey it’s alright, relax. Can you breathe?” Spike stared at him, his chest utterly still, “Spike! You need to stop, okay, you need to _breathe_ or you’ll pass out.”

Spike blinked, realised what he was doing, and sucked in a deep breath, “You’re – here.” He said, “You’re – not part of this.”

“No.” Riley shook his head, “No I never was, I swear.”

 Spike blinked again, like he was trying to clear his vision, “But I don’t – _Giles_. He – ”

“That wasn’t Giles,” Riley told him, “It was a vampire. One of those trained ones that Jacobs said they would get. Looks like they already have them. They can shapeshift too and can hide their scent.” Spike frowned, taking that in. He looked both confused and afraid which led to Riley adding, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” His frown deepened.

“I should have known,” He explained, “I could feel something wasn’t right but I – “ He sighed. “I ignored it.”

There was a pause and then, “Yeah. So did I, you’re not special.” Spike muttered, trying to wriggle out of his binds, “I could smell something off in that room but I – figured Giles wouldn’t – ” He yanked his hands down only to cry out, clearly having forgotten that his wrist was broken, _“Fuck!”_

“Stop it!” Riley barked, “Stay still, you don’t have your usual strength and I need you to listen to me.”

Spike looked at him, his hand shaking, “How long have I been – ?”

“I don’t know,” Riley cut him off, “But I need to tell you something before they come back.”

“Before _who_ comes back?”

“Spike. One of these vampires has turned into me.” His heart pumped faster in his chest and his dizziness started to wind down. The blood must be helping now, “Mackley wants me as a scapegoat. He’s going to have it hurt you so Angel will kill me.”

Spike blinked, “What?” He snorted without humour, “Angel would never kill you … Buffy’d never forgive him.”

“He’s tried to kill twice for you.” Riley argued.

“Yeah. Random soldiers, not you.”

“Well he’s obviously got a temper for this sort of thing and if he walks in on – whatever scene they’re planning on making, he could do anything.”

Spike chewed on the inside of his cheeks, “That doesn’t – he wouldn’t kill you.” He didn’t seem sure however and turned to look up at the ceiling, “We need to get out of here.”

“Yeah.” Riley scoffed himself now, “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve got some serious blood-loss though and I don’t think I could even stand without falling right now.”

“Vampire get you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Uh.” Spike looked around the room, his hand still shaking in obvious pain but he ignored it and tried to figure a way out. “Right.”

“How did you get out the first time?” Riley asked him, slowly becoming more aware as his hands and feet began to tingle with pins-and-needles, “When they had you here before?”

Spike stopped, looking at him, “I didn’t.” He said, “I just – woke up. Back in my crypt. And they started coming after me so I ran.”

“You woke up in your crypt?” Riley checked, frowning, “You never escaped?”

“I – no.” Spike thought that over himself, “But they didn’t let me go either. They’ve been after me since. I just – I never had the chance to think on that before, I didn’t – ”

“Someone must have helped you then.” Riley concluded, “Did you make any friends here?”

“No.” Spike glared at him, “I never saw anyone here but those ass – _ah – ”_ He suddenly bucked over the mattress, his back arched as only the crown of his head and the heels of his feet stayed fixed to the ground.

His body juddered with the effects of the shock and Riley flinched himself until it was over, watching as Spike thudded back to the ground with a shaking gasp.

He had his lips pressed together and he stared up at the ceiling, trembling, “… hurts – more as a human.” He whispered, his chest heaving.

“What caused that?” Riley asked, half expecting to see Mackley hiding somewhere with a button in hand but there was nothing, “Is there something with you?”

“No. It’s – the binds.” Spike told him, “If I pull too hard they – the chip fires.”

“It’s not supposed to be that bad.” Riley murmured, “Did they cha – ?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay try not to move.” He ordered, “A shock like that could kill you now you’re human. Or brain damage you beyond help.”

“Yeah.” Spike blinked a few times, still facing up as though he was afraid to even move now, “Had a cousin – back in old England. Never was the same after the asylum.”

Riley paused at the reminder that Spike was over 100 years old and had seen things he never would, “Asylum?” He asked, looking around for something he could use to help him stand.

“Yeah.” Spike murmured, “Her parents didn’t – approve of her wanting to leave her husband. She didn’t even remember me when I visited. Just stared out the window. … Like Dru used to.”

“Maybe she liked the view.” Riley said, slowly pulling the IV out of his arm.

“Window was boarded up.” Spike told him, a smile in his voice, “She could see rabbits though. Apparently. I thought they’d damaged her beyond anything but – maybe she was like Dru. Maybe she could see things.” His breath hitched, “Maybe it happens to everyone … eventually. Something bad enough happens and you – _see_.”

Riley stopped at that, looking over at him. There were tears on Spike’s cheeks and he wasn’t bothering to hide nor stop them. “Spike.” He called over, gently, “Spike. Hey. Look at me.” Slowly, Spike turned his head to face him. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay. You’re not going to go crazy.”

Spike stared at him, “You don’t understand.” He said, “I remember. I had – missing parts before. But I know now.” He shut his eyes, “It’s a thistle-hole.”

.

It wasn’t often that every search came up empty but today, every bar, nest and social group hadn’t heard anything at all. With a slayer in town, missing vampires was a regular occurrence, so it was hard to see which were dusted and which had been taken away to be experimented on.

Most of the questioning ended up with these vampires being dusted anyway, though that was mostly because they’d tried to attack them right after they’d talked. So all in all, not much to show.

Regrouping back at Giles’ house, they found that the Council had been as unreceptive as usual and that every book had been exhausted. Wesley had apparently called with the same result which left them with nothing.

When the sun set, Buffy’s worry grew, “He’d be back by now.” She said aloud, biting a nail, “Or he would have called.”

“We may have to assume that there are more of these rogue soldiers,” Giles said, “And that Riley and Spike may be captive.”

“Or that Finn was a part of it from the start.” Angel added, ignoring Buffy’s look. He shrugged his jacket on, looking out the window. It was dark enough for him now, “Look, I know Spike’s scent.” He said, “I’ll at least be able to see where he was last.”

Buffy ran a hand through her hair, looking at their three soldiers before getting her own jacket and putting it on as well, “I’m coming with you.” She glanced back at the others with her hand on the door, “Buzz me if they wake.”

Once outside, she zipped her jacket up and waited patiently as Angel stopped to sniff the air, his eyes closed to concentrate and focus only on what he could smell. A moment later, he opened them and turned left. “This way.”

They walked for about few minutes, their own thoughts keeping them quiet, until Angel veered off through a hole in the fence and stepped out into an empty bus station.

“He came here?” Buffy asked, looking around. It seemed the perfect place for a demon ambush if there were any and she could feel Angel stiffen when he realised that as well. They both braced themselves, keeping a watchful eye out just in case as they walked a little further in.

Angel stopped by the offices, “He was here.” He said, narrowing his eyes, “With Finn. And – ” He paused, frowning, “Someone else.”

“Who?”

“I’m not sure.” His frown deepened as he twisted his head around toward the street, “But all three scents go this way.”

They stepped out onto the road together, seeing a few parked cars but nothing else. After a moment, Angel cursed, “Dammit.”

“No.” Buffy shook her head, “No ‘ _dammit’_. Tell me you smell something.”

“I don’t. They got into a car,” Angel said, “But then the scent cuts off. It’s faint and it doesn’t – there’s no _direction_ to it.” He sniffed again, his eyes dark with both confusion and concentration, “We should head back. Look at maps, try to see what’s nearby.”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest that, that they should keep looking here, but Angel was already leaving and there was a sense of urgency to his each step. She ended up having to jog to keep up and she was running by the time they reached the house.

“Angel!” She called, finally catching him before they walked inside, but then Angel left her again to march right up to Giles, grab the nearest sharp object and slice a small cut into his arm, “Hey!”

Giles reacted like anyone who’d randomly been stabbed would, darting back away from his attacker and gripping his fresh wound tight, “What the hell are you doing?” He demanded but Angel was busy smelling the air.

He left Giles then and approached the soldiers, cutting them as well. He smelled Jacobs, then Hank, but when he reached Mackley his face hardened and he knocked him down with a blow, taking the chair with him.

“Angel!” Buffy tried to get in the way, “What are you _doing?_ What’s – ?” She froze when something shifted in the corner of her eye and glanced down at Mackley’s body. His skin was rippling like Spike’s did when he changed form and a moment later, a woman was lying in his place.

She was unconscious still, blonde and young-ish with a mole beneath one eye. She was also very obviously a vampire.

“Woah.” Xander backed away, staring down at her, “That’s – I mean – _what?_ How? What?”

“I could smell Giles back at the station,” Angel explained, _“That’s_ the third person I’d sensed. But he’d been here the entire time which meant that something had used his scent. I wasn’t sure which Giles was real.” He turned to them, “I had to check.” He nodded at the cuts he’d made, “Blood never lies.”

“Right.” Giles blinked, opening the first-aid kit one-handed and taking out a wipe, “Well.” He seemed to visibly understand all of what had just been said then, “Wait, you smelled _my_ scent? And then this – vampire.” He looked down at what had used to be Mackley and came to the same realisation that Angel must have already come to.

“They had one pretend to be you. Riley and Spike must have followed it away, which means they’ve got them. Both of them. Somewhere.”

“Wait, wait,” Xander held a hand up, “This is one of the vampire-soldiers they were talking about? So there really are more?”

“Looks that way.” Buffy scowled, understanding now as well, “And if one was pretending to be _‘Mackley’,_ then the real one must be out there giving the shots.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared down at Jacobs, “Maybe we were wrong about who was the leader.”

“No.” Angel shook his head, “Jacobs still has his own agenda and he reeks of superiority. He’s in charge. But they’d obviously planned on being caught at some point so they left one out to hold the fort.”

“And now they’ve got Riley. And _Spike_ , again.” She sighed, loudly, dropping her arms to her waist, “Okay. We need answers and we need this guy awake to get them,” She jabbed a finger toward Hank, “He’s afraid of getting in trouble over this so he’s probably not too into it.” She snapped her head up, “Willow. We need something to shock him up. Smelling salts, a scare, anything.”

“Sure, uh, hang on.” Willow took her spell-book out of her bag and started flicking through the pages, trying to find one that would work.

Buffy crouched down whilst she looked, staring down at the woman, “She didn’t act any different. Than a regular soldier, I mean.”

“Maybe she _was_ one before she turned.” Xander offered but Angel shook his head.

“No. Even if she had been, they’d never trust a demon in their group like that. No, she’s been trained for this, just like Jacobs said.” He frowned, “But this kind of – _control_. She’s shapeshifting as well but she can _use_ it and she knew how to move and how to talk. This kind of training must have taken months.”

Buffy looked at him, “If that’s true, then they would have been working under Walsh to do it.” She said, “But we never saw anything like this. If it was a project she’d created, why would they keep it a secret?”

Angel tilted his head to one side, thinking, “I don’t think they did.” He said, “I think they started this after your deal with Adam.”

“But you just said this would have taken months.” Buffy countered, “That’s not enough time.”

“No, it’s not. Not unless they used a thistle-hole.” He said and she frowned.

“A _what?”_

.

“A thistle-hole.” Spike repeated patiently, “It’s a time-spell. Breaks open a hole in dimensions the size of a thistle, hence it’s _name._ ”

“A hole?” Riley frowned.

“A pocket.” Spike continued, “Of time. It separates dimensions into one … blob. Time goes on forever inside it but life outside stops. An hour could be a day, or a day could be a month. Depends on who did the spell.”

“And you think … this is one of those holes?”

“I don’t _think_ , I know. I remember them telling me once.” Spike turned his head to look at him, “But when I left it I – I don’t know, I forgot? Or the spell made me forget. But I remember now. I was here. For – ages. Months.”

Riley succeeded in pulling the IV out and he clamped a hand over the spurt of blood that it released from his arm, struggling to stand by leaning against the bars. “And this witch. She’s powerful? To be able to do this?”

“To make a hole?” Spike asked, “Yeah. She’s got to be bloody powerful.” He shifted, watching Riley wobble about like a new-born lamb, “That bastard before said that they’d tested things on me but I thought I must’ve been out of it when they did because I didn’t know. But I remember now – there was a hole. In the ceiling. Not in this one but – ” He looked up, around the cells, before finding one beside Riley’s, “There. The sun would come through there to burn me.”

Riley tried to see what he could, “Is it sealed or open right now?”

“Open.” Spike said, “But no one’ll hear you. I tried. This place is out-of-sync with the rest of the world. You can only find it, if you know where to look.”

“Perfect.” Riley rolled his eyes, almost falling before he caught himself and pat along the wall to the other side of the cage, searching for a way out, “Just how I wanted to die.”

Spike continued to watch him, “There’s worse things.” He said slowly and Riley glanced at him, “Than dying.” He made a face, “There’s Hell, for instance. Though, I suppose that comes with dying doesn’t it? Not much of an appealing notion. But then, maybe your emotions don’t go there as well. Seems better that way. To not feel.”

Riley blinked at him, “Spike? I told you I wouldn’t let you go crazy but it would help if you tried as well.”

Spike laughed softly, “Sorry. It’s just – hard to focus on everything with all the blood.”

 _Blood?_ “What? What blood?”

“Her blood.” Spike said, pointing at nothing, “Killed her in ’93. Lizzie. … She’d gotten lost – wanted me to take her home.” His chest heaved and he shut his eyes, “God I’m sorry. I’m – I’m _sorry.”_

Riley stared at him, utterly confused as to what was happening, but then anything that he thought cut off when he suddenly spotted a hidden camera that was watching his every move. He froze, his throat dry as he realised that Mackley had just seen him attempting to escape.

His mind whirred as he looked away, pretending that he hadn’t seen it. It was well hidden if he was honest and he really only saw it through luck. Mackley wouldn’t assume he’d noticed if he didn’t point it out. But he needed a way to get this cage door open. A way to get to Spike and get them out of here.

Praying this would work, he glared and snapped out as angrily as he could, “Jesus, would you _shut_ up?” Spike blinked at him, “Of all people I had to be stuck with.” He scoffed, patting the walls again.

Spike was silent now, probably beyond confused at the sudden change of mood, but he didn’t spare him a glance.

After a long pause however, he finally spoke again, “You’re always stuck with you.” He said and Riley slammed a hand against the bricks.

“Shut the _fuck_ up!” He yelled, “Before I decide to just leave you here to rot.”

“You have a way out?” Spike asked, frowning, completely misunderstanding what he’d been trying to say or just ignoring it.

“No Spike. But when I do, I’m going to kill you first and _then_ go.” He heard the doors open but pretended not to, carrying on, “I’m only stuck here because of you anyway and let’s face it. Buffy won’t shed a tear over your death.” He sighed, putting his head against the wall as he heard footsteps approach his cage, “You’re not even my problem.”

“Should have thought of that earlier.” Mackley said, looking amused, “But I hear you. They piss you off, don’t they.”

Riley looked at him, “Demons?”

“Well. Vampires mostly, but yeah.” He shrugged, “Probably why it feels so cathartic to hurt them. You should try it.”

Riley scoffed, still playing along, “Yeah. Give me the opportunity.” He put enough sarcasm into it to be real and Mackley’s grin grew.

“Okay.” He took his keys out, “17’s right there. You got an opportunity.” Riley braced as he started to unlock the door, his heart thudding with hope until he suddenly stopped and put them away, laughing, “Man. Are you kidding me? You think I’m that fucking stupid? I _saw_ you look at the camera, dipshit.” Riley glared at him, “Nice acting though.”

He shook his head, still smiling, and turned toward Spike’s cage, unlocking it and walking inside. Riley watched, narrowing his eyes, “What are you doing?” He asked, wary now.

“I just wanted to see if it was true,” Mackley said, crouching down and pressing his fingers to Spike’s pulse, “That 17’s a human now.” He exhaled when he felt the heartbeat that he was looking for, flushing, “Wow. That’s so weird.” He shook his head, looking down at Spike, “Guess this means you have a soul now, huh.”

Spike didn’t say anything but when Mackley leant close enough, he spat in his face. Mackley reared back, wiping it off with the back of his hand and using that same hand to knock Spike’s head to one side, “You fucking bitch. You _want_ to piss me off?”

Spike didn’t answer, just kept his head turned to one side stubbornly ignoring him until Mackley hit him again and sat back over his chest, shrugging his gear off aggressively. He ripped the velcro apart, unbuckling his belt with no regard for the body beneath him, “Fine then.”

Spike shut his eyes, pressing his lips together, and Riley lunged toward the bars of his cage when his brain caught up to what was happening.

“You _fucking_ asshole!” He yelled, “Get the hell off of him, what the _hell’s_ the matter with you?!”

“Keep yelling all you want Finn,” Mackley unzipped his fly, “No one’ll hear you.” He grabbed Spike’s chin, squishing his cheeks together tight, “Bite me, and I’ll shock you until your brain is liquid. Got it?” He let go and Spike nodded like he'd rather slit the man's throat but knew he couldn't.

Riley gripped the bars in his hands, shaking with a fury he couldn’t quite control but there was nothing he could do. He had barely enough energy as it was and even if he were free, he doubted he could take Mackley in a fight right now. He felt sick, bile in his throat, and his mind ran through various scenarios that he'd been trained in but neither were particularly helpful enough right now.

And then suddenly there was a cell phone in his hands.

He staggered back, staring down at it, and the impossibility of it being here didn’t seem so important when he immediately dialed Buffy’s number.

.


	3. Chapter 3

.

Willow’s spell worked after only a few tries and Hank blinked himself awake, staring up at them all.

Angel had explained what a thistle-hole was already, so when they mentioned it and his eyes widened, Buffy narrowed her own, “So it’s true, then.”

He blinked and quickly pushed his expressions off of his face, but it was too late now anyway, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Buffy nodded slowly, glancing down, before suddenly slapping him hard across the face. He cried out, his cheek reddening, and she hit him again. No one stopped her as it was clear that she was holding back with each strike, though Hank clearly didn’t know that himself; he pressed his lips together to hide a sob.

When she hit him a fourth time, he yelled, “Stop it!”

“Then talk.” She snapped, “You and your friends raped a defenceless man and it doesn’t look like he was the only one.” She pointed down to the woman and Hank swallowed.

“No. No he was, I swear.” He shook his head, “We never – I mean _I_ never, not to anyone else. I swear.”

“I don’t care.” Buffy glared at him, “I don’t care if it was once, twice or if you just _watched_. You participated in this disgusting act and you don’t get any sympathy from us. All you can do right now is tell us the truth or get killed. Your choice.”

He darted his eyes over each of them, “You can’t kill me.” He said, though he didn’t look nor sound sure about that.

“Can’t I?” She tilted her head to one side, “I’m the _slayer_ , soldier. I’m the _law_. I’ve killed more demons and more evil than you can even _imagine._ I can do what I want.” She leant closer, putting a hand on Hank’s shoulder in a mockingly familiar gesture, “So talk. Or die.”

That was all it took. A moment later, the flood gates opened and Hank spilled all.

He revealed that Jacobs had found a witch during a dimension-jump experiment and that they’d brought her over to use her magic in Walsh’s projects. At first, the idea had been to just use the project and stop all demons, not just vampires, from being able to walk in the sun.

But then, Jacobs had found more files locked away and had announced that they’d be making an army instead. Hank claimed that he’d been against it but Mackley hadn’t and he’d felt pressured to go along.

They’d found Spike through a locator spell and had taken him into the thistle-hole, making him their first guinea-pig, but nothing had seemed to work for a long while. Eventually, Jacobs had gone back to the witch for more information in mutating demon DNA and she’d told them that pain would help awaken it.

They’d tortured Spike but with no success until Mackley had suggested rape. They’d been in the hole for months, locked out of time, and his ‘friends’ had apparently seemed eager for it. Hank, again, said that he’d only gone along with it because he’d been pressured but he _swore_ that he hadn’t had as much ‘fun’ doing it as the others had.

The look on Buffy’s face told him that they didn’t care however so he bowed his head and continued, explaining that the rape had worked.

After that they’d captured more vampires, five of them, and torture had worked fine with waking the serum in them. Spike had awoken his secondary power as well and the witch had absorbed it’s ‘essence’ to allow them to put it into their other soldiers.

They’d trained them, worked with them, used Pavlov’s theory to teach them that not obeying equalled shocks. And then one day, Spike had just vanished.

“What do you mean, _vanished?”_ Buffy asked. Angel was behind her, very clearly struggling to keep calm.

“I don’t know,” Hank said, “We figured he’d escaped or something but the cameras showed him just – going. He was there and then he wasn’t. So we went out looking for him.”

“And he came here.” Giles finished for him, his own voice cold. “For sanctuary.” He shook his head, wondering why Spike hadn’t just told him the whole story in the first place.

“Yeah,” Hank nodded, “We picked him up on the scanners and came to get him and then, well. You know the rest.”

“Yeah.” Buffy smiled without humour, “We know the rest. You attacked us, held one of my friends hostage, and then shot Spike so he wouldn’t tell us what you did.” Hank looked at her, his look of shame only making her angrier until she hit him again.

“I’ve told you everything!” He yelled, his lip bleeding, “I’ve fucking – ” She hit him a second time.

“What about Spike being human?” She snapped, “You know more than you’re letting on about that.”

“I don’t!” He sobbed, “Even Jacobs said – he isn’t _supposed_ to have a heartbeat, he – “ Buffy hit him, “I don’t know! Please!”

“Buffy – ” Xander took a step forward when she struck him harder but Hank misunderstood and assumed that another person was coming to hit him.

“No wait! Wait, okay fine! I did hear something!” He begged, “But it’s all I know. I promise!”

Buffy folded her arms across her chest, waiting, “Go on.”

“Okay.” He panted, “Okay. Uh. It was – I was supposed to be home but I forgot my pack. I came to get it and Jacobs was talking to someone. I couldn’t see them.” He glanced to the man beside him, checking that he was still unconscious, “He was – his eyes looked black. I thought it must have been the shadows but I don’t _know.”_

“What was he _saying?”_ Buffy pressed.

“I don’t – he mentioned something called ‘Medyria.’ And that’s all I heard, I swear.”

“Medyria.” Buffy looked at Giles but he shook his head, “Sorry. Need more than that.”

“I don’t _have_ more than that.” He said, “I swear. But he – Jacobs has this book. He wrote everything in it, it’s in the hole still. I can show you.”

“You can show us.” Buffy narrowed her eyes, “And how do we know you won’t vanish into it and leave us behind?”

“It won’t work that way,” Hank shook his head, looking desperate now, “If you know where it is, you can find it. You can even go fir – ” He was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing and Buffy snapped her head toward her bag as soon as she recognised it.

She left Hank and answered it immediately, looking both relieved and fearful, “Riley! Riley, are you – ? Wait. Wait hang on, slow down.” Her face hardened as she listened and she turned to glare back at Hank, “We’re on our way.”

.

Riley grunted from the impact of Mackley’s fist, hitting the wall behind him and sliding down.

He hadn’t been particularly quiet when calling Buffy, mostly to try and get Mackley the hell away from Spike too, but now he just felt dizzy. Mackley punched him again, this time in the stomach, and he gagged and doubled over.

The phone was smashed over the ground already but he’d heard Buffy promise that she was on her way. He hadn’t told her how to get here however and that was all he could think about when Mackley huffed and panted above him.

“Soldier!” He barked, sounding incredibly pissed off. The doors opened and the vampire that had first attacked them marched in. “I thought I told you to take all communication devices away.”

The vampire looked at him, his expression blank. “I did, sir.”

“Then what the hell is that?” Mackley jabbed a finger toward the phone that he’d broken and the vampire frowned down at it. A second later, he was on the ground, clutching his head and whining. Mackley released the trigger that he’d taken out to shock him with and kicked him over, “Go guard the fucking door. Let anyone in and you’re dust. Understand?”

The vampire climbed to his feet with a shaky nod and walked out. Riley watched it leave, trying to catch his breath as Mackley turned back toward him.

“Pretty sneaky, Finn,” He drawled, “Too bad you didn’t the chance to give any directions.”

“She’ll find us.” Riley told him, swashing the blood that had built in his mouth around and spitting it out, “Trust me.”

“She’s a freaking girl, not a wizard,” Mackley snorted, “Only people who know where the hole is can find it. She won’t – ” Something suddenly lunged onto his back and he staggered forward, two arms wrapped around his neck as whoever it was struggled to break it.

Riley blinked, looking past to see that in his haste to stop the call, Mackley had left both cage doors open. Spike had taken advantage of the distraction to break free of his binds and attack him. He hadn’t been shocked which meant that the binds hadn’t registered his movement or it had been Mackley watching through a camera and triggering it all along.

Human as he was now however, Spike’s usual method of snapping someone’s neck failed, and Mackley reached up to grab his arm and throw him down. He hit the ground hard, gasping, but he was on his feet again a second later.

Mackley scoffed, looking beyond amused, “Well alright then.” He felt in his pockets for the trigger but Spike kicked it away and punched him with his good hand.

He was left-handed which was lucky because it was his right wrist that was currently broken, and it let him attack without being blocked so easily.

“Fight me without your toys, you fucking prick.” He snapped, unsteady on his feet but looking more than determined to beat him.

Mackley grinned, shrugging and darting forward. He grabbed Spike by the neck and pressed him into the wall, squeezing tight. Spike lifted his own hands to squeeze Mackley’s neck back, lifting a knee up to drive into his crotch. He was released at that and kicked him again and again, stomping down.

Mackley swept an arm across to knock him down however, reaching for his baton, but by now Riley had recovered and he got there first. Taking the baton out of it’s slot, he struck Mackley across the face with it, satisfied that it knocked a tooth out too.

Spike climbed to his feet and stood beside him, shaking with anger, and he bent to take Mackley’s gun out from his belt, aiming it.

Riley pushed his arm down however, “No.”

“Get the hell off me.” Spike snapped, trying to aim against his refusal, “He deserves it. He _deserves_ to die.”

“Yeah. He does.” Riley agreed. “But it doesn’t have to be you that does it.”

Spike scoffed, “There’s no one else that _should_ do it.” He growled and Riley remembered what Mackley had said before. About him having a soul, now that he was human.

“What about your soul?” He tried, “You have a chance to – ”

“Sod my soul!” Spike held the gun tighter, tears in his eyes, “He raped me. Do you get that? He should – he _needs_ to fucking die, he _raped_ me!”

Riley let go of his arm, “I know.” He said, looking down at Mackley with undisguised disgust, “And he deserves pain and hell for it, yeah. But … “ He trailed off, hoping the message came across nonetheless.

Spike’s arm began to shake but he kept aiming, his tears falling. Biting down on his bottom lip hard, he lowered the gun a little and fired.

Mackley screamed when the bullet hit his leg, grabbing the wound on instinct, and Riley kicked him onto his side to grab the keys, locking him in the cage.

Spike dropped the gun once they were out, putting a hand to his chest and curling it, still shaking, “God it hurts.” Riley looked at him with concern, “My – heart. It keeps _beating_ , it just – god.” He shut his eyes, “I wish it’d stop.”

“How long’s it been since you felt that?”

He shut his eyes like the memory hurt as well, “I don’t know. 100 or so years? I – ”

“Soldier!” They both jumped, looking back as Mackley slid himself across the floor to lean against the wall, “Prisoner escape!”

“Shit.” Riley reached down to grab the gun, giving it back to Spike and holding the baton tight in his own hand, “I’ve got this, stay back.”

Spike gave him a look, “I might be human now but I still have my memory. There’s fighting styles I know in my sleep that you’ve probably never even heard of.” He looked nervous as the doors opened however but then they both paused when they saw Hank step through instead of the vampire.

He had both his hands tied behind his back and Angel was behind him, holding onto his shoulder tight. Buffy jogged in a moment later, her stake in hand, and her eyes lit up the moment she saw them both safe.

“Buffy,” Riley panted with relief and Angel released Hank to walk toward Spike, taking the gun from him slowly as Spike just gaped up at him in shock.

They stared at each other for what seemed like a long while and then Angel had him in his arms, holding him. Spike let him, sagging against his chest and breathing shakily, but he eventually pulled away.

“Where’s the other one?” He asked, looking at Hank.

“Anya and Giles are with him.” Buffy told him, looking at Mackley herself, “He needs a hospital though. And then the cops can deal with him.”

“Cops.” Spike repeated, “And what will you tell them? Excuse me Officer but this man created a vampire army, please help?”

“Hm. More, Officer this man _assaulted_ someone and we have someone who will testify to it.” She countered and Spike glared.

“I’m not testifying just to get them in jail,” He snapped, “I want them _dead.”_

“You’re not testifying,” Buffy said, “He is.” She nodded at Hank, “And as much as you’d want that, they’re still human. They go through human law.”

Spike stared at her, “So they do evil _with_ a soul but their soul is what keeps them safe?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “So they – get away with it.”

“They’re not going to _get_ _away with it,”_ Buffy argued, “They’ll be punished, Spike, I promise. But I can’t just kill whoever I  – ”

“Not asking you to. I’m asking you to let me do it.”

She sighed, “Look. I know you’re angry about this, I get that, but – ”

“Oh piss off.” He pushed past her, out into the hallway. This time, Angel went after him without even a pause.

“Spike.” He didn’t try to physically stop him, too afraid he’d break something else, but they couldn’t afford to lose him a second time. Especially in this place, “Spike. Stop.” He stopped himself when he was finally listened to and waited to be looked at.

Spike turned to him, “I’m faster than you.” He said and Angel smiled slightly.

“You’re human.” He reminded him, “And you’ve never been faster than me. I just used to let you get away.”

He hoped he’d get a smile for that but Spike hugged himself instead, looking pained and upset, “Why does it _hurt_ so much?” He asked, almost angrily, “It’s – there’s like a hammer in me and I can’t – I can’t _stand_ it Angel. There’s too much and those – _pricks_ did this to me and they’re – _jail?_ What the hell is _jail_ going to do to them?”

Angel stepped closer, putting a hand on his head, “I don’t think it’s the heart that’s hurting so much, Spike.” He said, “I think it’s what it means.”

Spike met his gaze, looking so young for just a moment, “Wh – ?”

“Your soul.” He murmured, “You can feel it. It’s in you now and the memories, the remorse, the pain? That’s all there too.”

“But I don’t want it.” He whined, like a child, “Cut it out.”

“I can’t.”

“Cut it _out!”_ He punched him but it didn’t hurt and Angel caught his fist when he tried a second time, “Get it out of me, Angel, just – !” He sobbed, “I don’t want to _see!_ They did this to me, they made me human! I know they did! He’s lying, he was lyi – ”

“He is,” Angel spoke over him, “He was lying, Hank admitted to it. Jacobs is working for something called Medyria. Do you recognise that?”

Spike stopped, swallowing and frowning as he took that in, trying to calm down, “Medyria?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head, “I don’t know it.” He pushed away from him, cradling his wrist and glaring at the ground, “Sounds old.”

“It probably is.” Angel agreed, “But apparently their witch is old too. She’s from another dimension. What do you say you and I go and find her?” He looked around the building, “She has to be here somewhere, right?”

Spike sucked in a deep breath, looking a little embarrassed over his outburst and latching onto the task eagerly, “Okay.”

.

“Giles ...?” Anya called him over, the warning in her voice alerting him more than her voice had, “I think his necklace is doing something.”

“What do you mean?” He came around to stand beside her, frowning down at Jacob’s bent head and at the necklace he was wearing. The horn had started to glow, the flowers within it withering as they watched, “Oh. Well that’s … quite fascinating actually.”

“Yeah _fascinating_ , but is going to _explode?”_ She nudged him, hiding behind his back just in case it did.

“I don’t think so,” He squinted, “I think it’s … dying.”

.

The place had been created from the imagination of three soldiers and yet all they’d come up with had been to enlarge the secret lab that had already been there and form hallways to-and-from different rooms.

It reminded Spike of a hospital in some ways but he kept that to himself, too afraid of what he’d actually say if he opened his mouth. His mind was buzzing with thoughts and memories and everywhere he looked, he saw his work smattered into the bricks. Dead children, women, men. All the destruction his demon had created, but now without it in him, he didn’t know how to process it.

It was as though he was seeing another man, one that looked like him, stalking and murdering as he watched. Like it wasn’t him. But he knew better and he knew that it was and the crushing realisation of what a monster he was hurt like nothing he’d ever felt.

They turned a corner and he suddenly saw a ghostly face watching him, taunting him, and his first reaction was to hit it. His fist hit glass however and he blinked, confused when the face imitated him until he realised. It was his reflection.

He leant closer, lifting a hand to touch his lips and feeling mystified when the person before him did the same. This was what he looked like. Sort of anyway. It was a blurry and morphed image in the distorted glass but it was close enough.

“Spike.” He startled, seeing Angel standing at the end of the third hallway that they’d searched, waiting for him, “I think this is it.”

He jogged to meet him, peering past the walls to see a large and wooden door that was built into the hole but clearly hadn’t been created with it. He looked at Angel, “Looks it, yeah.”

They both walked toward it, Angel breaking the lock by yanking the chain off and pushing it open. It swung in, the stench of wet vegetation hitting them like a rush of air, and inside the room beyond was pure greenery.

“It’s the jungle.” Spike frowned.

“No.” Angel stepped into it, narrowing his eyes, “It’s a nest.”

They both walked in, Spike letting Angel keep a hand on the back of his neck just to avoid arguing because he knew it made him feel better, and they ducked when vines began to grow a little too close to ground. Despite looking and smelling like a rainforest, there weren’t any animals about and it was disturbingly quiet.

The only sounds were their footsteps crunching over rotted branches and fallen leaves, and the hiss of their clothes as they moved.

“I think this is part of the dimension.” Angel murmured, “The one they stole the witch from.” He flicked a branch out of his face, “Stay close.”

“You reckon she’s dangerous?” Spike asked, “Not dealt with many witches in my time but – ” He cut himself off, staring, “Oh.”

Entwined in vines and thorns was a woman. Her eyes were pale and her hair was grey, lashes from what looked like whips crossed over most of her naked flesh and she was looking right at them.

“Jesus.” Angel breathed, staring himself as she shifted and parted her lips to speak.

“William.” She greeted, sounding almost warm, “So good to see you.” She hummed, “Though I imagined you … sharper.”

Spike blinked slowly, not quite sure which question he should ask first but he spoke without thinking anyway, “Imagined me?”

“Yes,” She smiled, softly, tired even, “The servant spoke of you a lot. Nice to put a face to the name.”

“The servant?” Angel asked, so taken-aback by her appearance and manner and not quite sure of what to expect. He felt relaxed however, at peace in this strange place, and though he knew it was because of her he didn’t seem to care.

“Medyria’s boy.” She explained, wincing as blood dripped from one of her many wounds, “The broken soul.”

“What is Medyria?” Spike asked, assuming and ignoring that the broken soul was Jacobs, “Is it you?”

She hummed again, closing her eyes for a moment, “No. Medyria is inhuman. An old God. One that had been gone from the worlds for eons until I was forced to wake it.” She sighed, her hair flying in the breeze that created, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more William. But it took so much energy.”

Spike stepped closer, _“You_ made me disappear? To my crypt?” She smiled, “And – the phone. You gave it to Riley.”

Still smiling, she nodded, “Yes.”

Spike’s face softened, “Then. You did enough. Thank you.” He looked over the vines that held her in place, frowning, “You’re a prisoner here.” He realised aloud.

Entranced by how gentle she seemed, Angel stepped closer as well, “How do we free you?”

She met his gaze, tears in her eyes, “Oh Liam. I’m afraid I’m bound to this plane. To die now is to be free. It’s been so long – I’d like to go. Please.”

“You want us to … kill you.” Spike murmured, putting a hand on one of the vines, “Can’t we just – we can break these. Can’t we?”

Angel tried to turn to look at him but found he couldn’t quite look away, “I don’t think we can.” He said slowly, “They’re not normal vines.”

“No.” The witch agreed, “They were made from my skin – my spell. Unbreakable.” She glanced to one side, one of the vines lifting just slightly to reveal a long knife, “Please.”

Spike stared at her and then at Angel, looking like he wished there was another way but knew there wasn’t. He turned aside, letting Angel make the decision to pry the knife free.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” He whispered as he did, “You deserved better.”

She tilted her head up, “Medyria is dying,” She said, “The ritual to save it failed. But it’s essence is still here.” She turned her head to one side, baring her neck, “Take my strength. Kill it for me.”

Angel hesitated for only a moment before shifting and leaning down, sinking his teeth into her skin and drinking. She gasped at the touch but gradually lost herself within the rush that a bite usually gave and in her distraction, he slit her throat.

She died instantly and with her, the vines twisted like snakes until they covered her entirely. Angel stepped back and licked the last of her blood away, dropping the knife to the ground and feeling cold when that sense of calm vanished.

They both stood there for a moment, a little lost, until the jungle around them began to shake. Angel reacted instinctively then, grabbing Spike by the arm to leave.

The trees and bushes began to crumble as they went by, everything tumbling down as the only thing that had kept them alive was now dead. He shoved Spike out the door, jumping through it himself, and they ran down the hallway toward the only one that seemed real.

The hole collapsed as they ran, the enlarged laboratory vanishing behind their every step until they ended up back at what must have been the original. Buffy ran down the stairs toward them, having obviously left the area before – probably to take Mackley to a hospital – and she stared down at them.

“What the hell’s happening?”

“Witch is dead, the hole’s collapsing, _move.”_ Spike summarised, nudging her up until they could all leave. They ran out into the street, Angel flinching when he was almost hit by the sunlight before finding a shadow that would cover him for a while.

Spike joined him, staring up at the tattoo parlour that seemed utterly unaffected by what had just happened. There was a slight hush in the air as he looked, like someone’s breath was leaving the world.

“We didn’t ask her name.” He murmured and Angel looked at him, “It wasn’t Abigail. I know it wasn’t but she didn’t – we didn’t ask.” He lowered his eyes, “And now she’s gone.”

.

Angel drove them back in the SUV that Hank had given them the keys to. Buffy explained that Hank was tied up at the house again whilst Riley and Mackley were in the hospital, and that Spike should go too.

He didn’t protest it so Angel followed the signs and parked in the shadows, walking in with them. Giles was in the waiting room already,  telling Buffy that Xander and Anya were with Jacobs and that she should go take a look at the necklace.

“I’ll stay here while you do,” He promised, “If anything happens, or if Riley calls, I’ll contact you. Alright?”

She didn’t look happy but listened and left to head to the house whilst Giles joined Spike and Angel at the front desk.

The woman sitting there was getting a folder out to jot some details down and clicked her pen on, “Name?”

“Spike.”

She looked up at him and he looked back, “You know I can’t put that down, Honey.”

“Why not? It’s my name.”

Giles stepped forward, “Spike is a _nickname_ ,” He said, “His name is William. Uh.” His mind blanked for a moment, “William Giles.” Both she and Angel glanced at him at that and then she wrote that down.

“Alright, _Spike_ ,” She raised an eyebrow, “Age?”

“25.”

“Okay. Address?”

“Um.” He looked at Giles, “Address?”

Giles gave her his own one, ignoring the woman’s bemusement as she continued the questions, “And which wrist is broken?”

“My right.”

“Okay. Take a seat and someone’ll be out to do an exam with you.”

The three of them went to sit down, Spike in the middle, and despite the waiting area being nearly empty as it was, they sat for over an hour.

“She’s taking the piss,” Spike hissed when he saw the time, “She didn’t like my name so she’s making us wait.”

“These things take time.” Giles told him, deciding to go and check on Riley and stretch his legs. “I won’t be long.”

Riley was asleep when he came to his ward however, being treated for severe blood loss and any injuries that Mackley had caused. He sat there for around twenty minutes anyway, heading back to the waiting room to find that Spike was asleep now as well and resting his head on Angel’s shoulder.

Angel was reading a pamphlet about measles and looked up when he approached, “So where are the cops?” He asked, slowly, “For Mackley?”

“We’ve not informed them yet,” Giles told him, “But I called in an old friend and he’s being guarded.”

Angel smiled dryly, “Wesley. … I thought I could smell him.” A lady opposite them gave him a look at that, returning to her book with a frown. “What did you tell him?”

“Enough to get him here.”

“What about Cord – ” Spike shifted over his shoulder, settling in closer and sighing in his sleep. Angel looked down at him for a moment before continuing, “Is Cordelia here?”

“No. I believe she said someone should ‘man the phones’?”

Angel smiled again, looking up and straightening to nudge Spike awake when a nurse walked in.

“William Giles?” She called. Spike stood and stretched, following her into a room. Before he went in however, he turned and gave them both a look.

Angel stood as well then, visibly remembering that Spike wasn’t used to being human and that it was probably best for him to not be alone with a medical professional. Giles stayed behind just in case someone called but they weren’t long anyhow and only a few minutes later, Spike returned to his seat with an X-ray slip in his hands.

They waited for another half hour and in that time, Spike pushed Angel into a position that he was comfortable with so he could lay on his shoulder again. Angel let him shove him around, barely reacting to it, but when Spike wriggled against him in discomfort, he put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer; letting him rest his head on his chest instead.

“You stink, Peaches.” He let him know by way of thanks, and the same lady from before gave him a dirty look. He lifted his middle finger at her in response, only lowering it when Angel jostled him to stop.

Eventually, a different nurse came to call for him and almost five hours since they’d first arrived, Spike’s wrist was put into a cast and he borrowed money from Giles to pay for the pain-killers that he’d been recommended to take. They bought some antibiotics as well, for the bullet-wound, and the pharmacist asked a number of questions regarding it, including proof of ID, but as Giles had already lied and said that it was for him, that wasn’t an issue. 

Riley and Mackley would be here overnight so Angel joined Wesley to guard the latter whilst Buffy came to sit with Riley. Giles took Spike with him to the house once she arrived and he watched as he took two of the pain-killers with the water fountain outside, seeing them start to kick in just as they reached the door.

Willow had been at class the entire time, to avoid any suspicion for there being so many people missing it, but now she was poring over the book that Hank had promised he’d get them – trying to find more information on Medyria.

Giles went to join her but when Spike walked into the chair beside him and stumbled, he led him to sit down instead and went to make a cup of tea.

“So they got you in a cast then, huh,” Xander commented, picking a pen up from the desk and pulling Spike’s arm toward him, “Ever signed one?”

Spike looked at him, “Why?”

“Tradition.” He scrawled a large cross over the bandage and Spike squinted down at it.

“Kiss?”

“No that’s an _X_ for – okay hang on,” He added an _‘ander’_ after it in much smaller writing and put the pen away. “There.”

Anya took the pen herself and added her name then as well, along with a badly drawn smiley-face with vampire fangs.

“Here, Wil.” Xander tossed her the pen once Anya was done, “Your turn.” The pen sailed over her head however and she barely looked up, intent on reading what she had in front of her, “You were meant to catch that.”

“What?” She blinked, “Oh. Sorry. I just – Giles, I think I found something.” Cup of tea in hand, Giles came to have a look, “Here. It doesn’t say Medyria but – it’s about old Gods. Isn’t that what the witch said?” She looked at Spike for that and he nodded.

“Said it was an old God yeah. But that the ritual failed.” He leant back, “Angel’s – got her strength. He needs to kill it.” His swung his foot as he spoke and it lodged between the table and the chair’s leg. He blinked, “Stuck.” He announced and Xander snorted loudly.

“Is he high on meds right now?” He asked just as Spike yanked his foot back and almost fell off of his chair from the force of that action, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Oh!” Willow suddenly yelled and they all jumped, “Medyria!” She pushed the book towards Giles, stabbing a finger toward a picture on the page, “I found it!”

Putting his tea down, Giles started to read.

_Medyria. One of the Ancient Gods that walked dimensions. Known often as a trickster or conjurer, it embraces chaos and destruction. During the Great Purge, Medyria fell to deception and was cast out by those it had favoured when their affections ran toward another God._

“So its crowd ditched them when someone better came along?” Xander summarised and Giles frowned.

“Apparently.” He bent closer, continuing to read.

_Unable to travel as it once had, Medyria was forced to reside within any lifeform it could possess, passing through their stages in life until weakness overcame them._

“Possess?” Willow repeated, looking disturbed. “You mean it – goes _inside_ people?”

“Inside lifeforms, yes.” He frowned, “It can travel into any living creature.”

“So it could be like … anyone. Anyone at all?” The doorbell rang at that and despite it being very unlikely to be just who they were looking for, they tensed instinctively.

Xander went to open it and they saw him relax, “Hey Dawnster. Uh, Buffy’s not here right now.”

Dawn frowned when he didn’t invite her in, trying to peer past, “What’s going on? Anything cool?”

“Nope.” Xander shook his head, “Nothing cool. We’re reading. Boring books.”

She huffed, folding her arms across her chest, “Well mum asked me to come get Buffy.”

“She’s still at the hospital, kiddo.” Xander told her, “Riley’s staying overnight but she’ll probably be back soon when visiting hours are over.”

“Can’t I wait here for her?” She asked, “I mean. If you’re just reading, I won’t get in the way … “ Her tone indicated that she knew very well that they weren’t just reading and Xander smiled awkwardly, glancing back at them all for help.

“Dawn,” Giles stood, “I’m afraid we _are_ currently dealing with something and it’s really not for your age. We’ll let you know once Buffy is back but you should head home. Alright?” She made a face, looking sullen at being left out, but she clearly didn’t want to argue with an adult.

Turning, she stomped down the path toward the street, “Bye Spike!” She called back as she did, ignoring everyone else.

Spike leant forward in his chair to try and see her, “See you, Niblet!” He then sat back and looked at Anya with a strange, solemn expression.

She frowned, “What?”

“I’m going to throw up.” He let her know and she immediately jumped out of her seat to back away, just in time. Spike bent and vomited over the floor, moaning afterwards and pressing a hand to his mouth.

Willow put a hand on his back but he flinched and stumbled to his feet, “Don’t _touch_ me!” He snapped.

“Sorry!” Willow apologised quickly, wide-eyed at his reaction, “I didn’t mean to – ”

“It’s okay, man, calm down,” Xander spoke at the same time, stepping toward him, “No one’s gonna touch you.”

“… my head hurts.” Spike muttered, sagging a little and wiping at his chin.

“You should eat something salty,” Anya said, “And lie down.”

“I’m sick of lying down,” He ran a hand through his hair, turning and looking at Jacobs’ body, "I'm sick of - " Without warning, he marched toward him and hit him across the face. It didn’t wake him, nothing had so far, but it did sport a bruise.

Spike lifted a hand to hit him again but the third time he did Xander caught the blow and held his arm down, trying to twist him around to face him but he lost his balance and they tumbled over. Spike landed on his back, Xander above him, and like a switch had flipped, his already fragile calm broke.

“Get off me!” He screamed, slapping him away, “Get off! Get **_off_** _me!”_ Xander scrambled off of him as quickly as he could and Spike climbed to his feet, backing away until he visibly realised where he was, “Harris.” He blinked, pressing his lips together, “Where’s – ” He curled a hand over his chest, breathing heavily, “Fuck.”

Having watched the scene, Giles slowly left the front door and walked toward him, “Willow. Could you do a little more reading on Medyria, please? We’ll reconvene in the morning when everyone else is here and discuss what to do.”

It was a polite but clear dismissal and she packed the books into her arms, looking back at them just the once as she, Xander and Anya left.  

With them gone, Giles faced Spike and gave him a firm look, “Sit down.” He ordered, pointing at the sofa. Spike didn’t argue though he did look annoyed.

Once he was seated, Giles sat beside him and brought the first-aid with him, “Lift your shirt. I need to check that wound.”

Spike blinked down at his hip and saw that there were flecks of blood over his shirt. He lifted it up as told and Giles took the bandage off to wipe at the open cuts. Spike winced with each touch, hissing behind his teeth, but he also gradually began to fully calm down.

Once Giles put a fresh bandage on, he was no longer shaking, “This is permanent,” He whispered, “Isn’t it.”

“Is that so bad?” Giles asked him, softly, “You’ve a chance to have a second run at life. A soul, untainted by past deeds.”

“We don’t know it’s untainted.”

“True.” He nodded,  “Do you think it’s _not?”_

“Well I remember it all, don't I.” He glanced away, “Everything. Years and years of blood.” He traced a finger over the smiley-face Anya had drawn on his cast, “And I feel so – _weak.”_ He scoffed, “Even Harris just got the better of me.”

“I’d say that’s probably just because you’re not at your best right now,” Giles argued, “You’ve been through a huge ordeal Spike. You need to rest. Humans don’t heal as fast as demons do.”

“That’s the problem.” Spike muttered, “Everything hurts. It won’t _stop_ hurting. And if I were me, they’d be dead already. But I’m _not_ me and no one’s going to punish them.”

It didn’t take a genius to know who he was talking about, “Don’t you think death is too quick for them? In Prison, they’d be attacked. Bullied. Rapists always are.”

Spike gave him a look but didn’t say anything and they fell into a long silence. Eventually, he spoke again however, returning to his original subject, “So what happens now?”

“Now?” Giles sat back, “Now, we first need to find Medyria and get rid of it. Then, if this is permanent on you, we find you a job." Spike blinked, "Of course you’d need ID first, and all the regular paperwork, but I’d be able to get that for you and – ”

“A job?” Spike repeated, frowning, “You mean ... I can’t stay here?”

Giles paused, “It’s up to you. I assumed you’d want to be far from this place,” He looked at him, “Sunnydale isn’t the safest town to live in.”

“Yeah but, I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“What about your father?”

Spike frowned, surprised at the question, “Well unless he’s _immortal_ , he’d be dead. And he left us, remember. I don’t know what happened to him after that. He didn’t even come to my _empty-casketed_ ‘funeral’.” He made a face, "It was years after I died, I'll give you, but I know he was invited."

“How do you know he didn't go to your funeral?” Giles asked, frowning.

“Because I killed everyone at my funeral.”

“Ah.” Giles glanced away. “Well if you don't know what he did afterward, it might have been possible for him to have found a new family."

"So?"

"So he may have had children again. More than you."

“What are you getting at, Giles?” Spike asked, annoyed now, “Who cares about my father and his merry-end?”

"Because," He sighed, “If you had family, Spike. Family out there, far from here, they could house you. If you could prove your relation, you could live with them and they could give you all the help you need. Family is a larger bond than begrudging necessity, after all.”

Spike stared at him, a strange expression in his eyes, “Family.” He repeated.

“Yes. Newly human now, you’re clearly vulnerable. Sunnydale doesn’t seem a safe nor viable option for you anymore.”

“But I already told you, I can’t leave,” Spike said, “I tried, remember.”

“We’ll work on going around that.”

“Why?” Spike stared at him, “Why the hell would you care if I’m set for the rest of my life? Where’d the bloody hell did that come from?” He stood, “If you want me to go then just say so. You don’t need to paint it with all this faff about family and _safety.”_

“That’s not what I'm – ”

He was ignored and Spike stomped for the door, waspishly adding, “I can leave, fine. I can take care of myself anyway.”

Before he could open it to leave however, it burst inward itself and he ducked, backing away when he saw what had just destroyed it.

A demon stood towering over him, blocking the sunlight entirely with it's bulk. He froze, staring up at it, and Giles immediately recognised it from the picture he’d seen days ago and stood up himself; well aware of how vulnerable the both of them were right now as he’d just sent everyone else away.

The P’yshma took a step in, grey in colour and largely built, clawed hands curled in preparation to strike. As it stood there however, it didn’t attack them or try to, which went against everything that Giles had read about it being prone to do.

Instead, it looked down at Spike almost fondly and reached a hand out toward him.

“William.” It said.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dawn randomly appears just as she did in the series lol
> 
> Comments are golden <3


	4. Chapter 4

.

The P’yshma took a step in but didn’t attack as it was prone to do.

Instead, it looked down at Spike almost fondly and stretched a hand out toward him.

“William.” It said.

Spike took a step back, barely avoiding its touch, his shock melting into confusion, “You know me?” He asked, frowning, and the P’yshma lowered its hand.

“My home.” It rasped in answer to that; Spike’s frown deepened, “My Vessel.” It lifted a hand for him again but this time, Spike grabbed the lamp that sat on the table and threw it at its head, turning to run.

He skid to a halt by the stairs however and spun around to grab the stunned Giles by the wrist, pulling him along, “Come _on_ , Watcher! Run first, think later!”

Giles took the advice and the both of them ran into the kitchen and shut the door after them. Giles held his back against it whilst Spike pushed open the windows and climbed out of them as best he could whilst running on pain-killers with a bullet-wound and a broken wrist. He landed on his feet nonetheless and hopped impatiently as he waited for Giles to follow.

Once they were both out, they ran past the houses, trying to stay to the shadows to keep out of sight but the P’yshma barrelled through a batch of recycling bins and roared after them, clearly able to track.

“The Magic Shop. Go.” Giles said, giving Spike a push in the right direction as he fumbled to get his pager out of his pocket. He didn’t bother to look at what he’d written and just pressed a number of buttons in the hope that Buffy would know why he couldn’t type properly _._

He almost dropped it a moment later however, when he collided into Spike’s back. Irritation won over confusion at first until he looked up and saw why he’d stopped.

Another demon was stood just a few feet in front of them, leering and blocked to stop them, while a third stood to their left. Spike looked at each of them and took a step back, covering Giles with his body – or as much as he could anyhow, considering their difference in height, but the thought was appreciated.

Cornered as they were however, it was all they could do to just wait as the P’yshma caught up to them.

Spike bristled, his shoulders rising like a threatened cat, “What the hell is this? You’re following a _P’yshma?_ Of all demons?”

The other two kept silent, keeping them boxed in. They were common demons he’d come across now-and-again, though he’d never seen examples of them following someone else’s lead. None of them were particularly bright enough to comprehend orders.

“William,” The P’yshma stopped only a foot away.

“Yeah. That’s my name,” Spike snapped, “Though God knows how you know it.”

Giles looked at it over the top of Spike’s head, frowning when again the P’yshma didn’t attack nor order the other demons to. Everything about its behaviour was abnormal and now that they weren’t running for their lives, he could think about why.

“I don’t think that’s the P’yshma speaking.” He murmured.

Spike glanced at him over his shoulder and then turned back again, sizing the demon up, “… Medyria?”

The P’yshma bared its teeth and a low rumble in its throat made it clear that that was its attempt at approval or happiness.

“Okay.” Spike took a step back, “Makes sense. Giles here can understand you. You’re not speaking Gryvian and these lunkheads wouldn’t follow unless they were charmed to.” He sucked in a sharp breath, exhaling it in a laugh, “So. Medyria.”

“Yes.” The P’yshma hissed and Spike scoffed.

“You chose a _P’yshma_ demon for your new body? Gotta be a step down from Godliness.”

“Yes.” It said again, stepping closer, “But you. You will be.”

“Will be? Will be what?” Spike asked, clenching his good hand into a fist, only to blink when the demon closest to them had its head chopped off.

“He’ll be your new _vessel.”_ Angel answered for it, holding a now-bloody sword at his side and shifting into his vampire’s face, “Isn’t that right?”

The P’yshma growled at him, turning to the second demon helper, but Buffy appeared at Angel’s side and took it on in a fight.

“See we did some reading.” Angel continued, twirling his sword around, _“Medyria._ Found your ‘boy’s’ journal. It’s a pretty fascinating story.”

 _“Leave_ vampire.” Medyria ordered, its hands glowing but the magic was faint and barely there.

“Your followers left you for something better.” Angel spoke over it, as though it hadn’t spoken at all, “But they were scared you’d come back for revenge so they banished you. Stripped you of your powers and everything that made you what you were. Hoping you’d die in the mortal body they’d put you in.”

Buffy stabbed the demon she was fighting in its heart with a dagger, pushing it to the ground once she was done and dusting herself off.

“But you found a way to live on, didn’t you,” Angel pointed the sword at it, “Jumped from body to body, sucked their life out to give yourself power before leaving them when they eventually died because of you. It’s ironic you’re in a P’yshma now, considering how they kill their victims as well. You’ve got a lot in common.”

Medyria lunged for him but he dodged it, landing lightly on his feet, “But even a P’yshma can’t hold you, can it? No, you wanted something better. Something unique.” He narrowed his eyes, “You wanted Spike.”

“Me?” Spike frowned, “Harrowing tale, Angel, but there’s nothing unique about me. Vampire through-and-through, remember?”

“Now that’s not true, Spike. Is it?” Angel spoke to him but kept his gaze fixed on Medyria, “You’ve always been different. Since you turned, there’s been something about you. Something new. And Medyria felt it.”

“Felt _what?”_ Spike snapped and finally, Angel looked at him.

“Your humanity.” He said, “You didn’t have a soul, of course you didn’t. But you kept your humanity. You feel, you love. The demon in you killed but William Pratt lived on in you. He just evolved with the times.” He turned back to Medyria, “And that enticed you, didn’t it. A vampire in control of his emotions. But you couldn’t get into him without a soul. You needed him human. You needed him _changed_ to fit you.”

Spike straightened, looking at Medyria himself now, “The shapeshifting. That wasn’t a secondary-power. That was you. Making me into something you wanted.”

“Making you _home.”_ Medyria growled, “Moulding you. A strong soul.”

“Strong enough to handle it when you woke up inside him,” Angel finished, “You can jump from body-to-body but all that moves is your essence. Your power, your _self_ , that’s contained. But Spike’s soul would have been the catalyst you needed to rebirth yourself. Only problem is,” He smiled without humour, “We can’t let you do that.”

Medyria didn’t hesitate in the face of that threat and attacked immediately. It ignored Buffy and Angel however and went straight for Spike. A claw ripped his shirt open when he jumped out of the way and spun to kick it in the chest, but without his usual strength, all that succeeded in doing was reopening his bullet-wound.

He cursed, pressing his hand to it and staggering back, but then Medyria clenched its fists and he screamed. He fell to his knees, shaking, and his body rippled like waves in a storm. Angel sliced a gash into Medyria’s back, stopping its magic, and Spike gasped once he was released.

“Giles!” Buffy yelled, joining the fight, “Get him out of here!”

Not needing to be asked twice, Giles helped Spike to his feet and pushed them in the direction of the Magic Shop. Spike struggled however, trying to get back and join the fight.

“No wait – let me _get_ – ” He shoved Giles back, hard, and ran toward Angel when he fell.

“Spike!” Buffy went to block him off, “Get out of here!”

“No!”

“You’ll just get in the way and this thing is after _you,_ just go!”

Spike glared at her, looking at Angel instead, and a moment later the sword was thrown. He caught it with a wince, forgetting how heavy one would be to a normal human, but he recovered quickly enough and lifted it ready.

Buffy rolled her eyes, angry that she was ignored but focusing on taking Medyria down instead of arguing. Giving Angel a look that told him she hoped he knew what he was doing, she whistled loudly.

Medyria turned to her and for a second, Spike felt sorry for it. Once it had been an old God, powerful beyond anything, and now it faced down a Slayer that taunted it. He knew something about power being stripped away but he also knew that this thing was the cause of all his recent suffering and that squashed any sympathy.

With its back turned, he gripped the sword and stabbed it through the top layer of skin behind its neck. The sword lodged into it and Medyria roared, spinning on instinct to try and grab him but he kept a hold on the sword and swung with it.

Using all his strength, he yanked down, slicing through each layer of skin until the thin exterior showed. Once the sword hit the coccyx he pulled it free and landed back on his elbows, scraping them. His move had helped however as now, without the thicker casing in place, Buffy could use her dagger to pierce its actual skin.

“Lower down!” Spike told her, “Hit where your ribs would be.” She didn’t answer but took the dagger out to do as he said and Medyria howled.

It knocked Buffy down with a blow to her chin and pulled the dagger free, turning back to Spike, its eyes begging, _“William.”_

Spike stared up at it, swallowing, and tried to push his sympathy away once again. He didn’t move however, watching as Angel came up from behind and sank his teeth into its neck. He ripped the skin off, made a face at the taste of it, and kicked it down.

Blood flowed over the street and Medyria lifted its head, weakly reaching out for Spike even now.

“Willi _– am_ … “

Its hand thudded down and the life left its eyes. Spike realised he’d stopped breathing and went to take a breath only to blink when Angel put a hand over his mouth.

“Wait.”

Buffy got to her feet, taking out a plastic pot from her bag and kneeling over Medyria’s body. From within the P’yshma’s skin, something crawled and skittered and she slapped the pot down, looking very disturbed.

“Ew. Ew, ew, ew.” She quickly screwed the lid on and backed away, putting it down on the ground and away from her. Inside was what looked like a cockroach, scrabbling around to try and escape.

“That’s it?” Spike asked when Angel let him go, “That’s Medyria?”

“That’s Medyria,” Angel nodded, “Looks and travels like a parasite. Goes through the oesophagus to get into the blood stream and then into the brain.”

That explained why he’d covered his mouth then. Spike rubbed at his neck, feeling uncomfortable at even the mention of how Medyria had lived on, and he accepted the hand that helped him up.

Giles approached them then and lifted the pot, raising an eyebrow. He had a ripped seam and a few spots of blood on his sleeve and Spike gave him an apologetic look when their gaze met.

“Sorry Watcher.” He offered and contrary to what he’d thought would happen, Giles just sighed.

“No harm done.” He said.

Angel picked the sword back up and looked down at the P’yshma’s body, “We can’t leave this out here.”

“I’ll take the legs, you take the arms,” Buffy said, rolling her sleeves up and looking like she wanted nothing more than to let Angel do it alone, but she carried it nonetheless. Spike pushed open a manhole cover for them and they dropped the body down there, returned for the other two to do the same, and then left them behind for the Magic Shop.

Willow, Anya and Xander were already there and the journal Hanks had given them was open on the table. They looked up when they came in, relieved.

“You’re okay,” Willow beamed, “Is – Medyria … ?”

“Potted and stored.” Buffy declared, gesturing that Giles put the pot down for them to see.

Anya gave it a distasteful look, “Gross.”

“Yep.” Xander agreed, rubbing his arms, “And I feel like its on me. Is there – is something on me?”

“So what do we do with it?” Spike asked, “I’m guessing all the info you lot got was from this.” He poked the book with a finger.

“You’d guess right,” Willow said, “After we left, I um. I got to reading some more and there was tonnes of stuff in between the lines. Like a code. Once I cracked it, the ritual was pretty simple. Use the blood of a holy one to turn an impure into a pure.”

“Say what?” Spike blinked, raising his eyebrows.

“Uh, well. Basically, it means – well it _translates_ to – that they used Medyria’s blood to turn you from impure, a vampire, to pure. A human.”

“A human’s _pure?”_ Spike scoffed, “Alright then.”

“Purer than a Demon.” Xander said but Anya nudged him.

“No I’m with him. There’s nothing pure about humans.” She shook her head, “It probably just means a soul.”

“Which … every human _has.”_ Xander emphasised.

“Not everyone uses theirs. And some humans sell them.”

“They – ” He paused, “Fair enough.”

“So this thing needed me to be human,” Spike said, “If that was the ritual, then why did the Witch say it failed? I _am_ human.”

“She probably meant the rest of the ritual.” Willow said, “Once you were, uh, _pure_ … Medyria would ‘swallow’ your soul into theirs. Reawaken itself as a God again.”

 _“Swallow_ the soul?” Buffy frowned.

“It means to steal it,” Angel explained, “Take the essence of a soul to push the God out. Like an explosion.” He looked at Spike, “Guess that means your soul’s pretty powerful.”

Spike stared at him and then at the pot, “So how do we kill it?”

“Oh.” Willow took the pot and unscrewed the lid, tossing the cockroach-like creature out onto the table. Most of them recoiled away at that but she simply lifted the now empty pot and slammed it down, “Squish.”

There was a squelch as she raised the pot again and both the table and the plastic held bits of the cockroach attached to it.

“Oh gross.” Xander gagged, “Get rid of it.”

Willow held the pot like it was a dead skunk, looking at Buffy with pleading eyes.

“Nope. Not me.”

“Come on Buffy, you stab vampires every night.”

“I’ll kill a demon but I won’t touch a bug. Forget it.”

Sighing, Willow stood and went toward the bathroom. They heard the tap run and the sound of her gingerly scraping the dead-God off of the pot and into the drain.

“Just toss it in the trash!” Buffy called, and there was a pause before the tap turned off and Willow threw the pot away.

Spike took her seat while she was gone, flicking through the book and reading over it almost frantically, “What about the shapeshifting? If it wasn’t the soldiers that did it then how do I stop it?”

“You’ve been doing it less-and-less.” Xander said, “Maybe it’s already stopped.”

“No. The bloody God controlled it back there. Did something to me and made me change on purpose. I think – ”

A sharp ringing cut him off and he jerked toward Angel, watching as he took the cell phone out of his pocket and answered.

“Hello? Wes, yeah – ” He frowned, listening _, “What?_ .. When? … Okay. No it’s okay. I’ll tell them. Thanks.” He flipped the phone shut and Spike stood.

“Tell us what?”

Angel pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, “Mackley’s escaped.” He said, “Apparently a Doctor discharged him but no one else has a record of it.” Spike’s face closed off.

“Where was Wesley?” Giles asked.

“Someone looking like me came in and told him to take a break.”

“One of the vampire soldiers.” Buffy realised, “I thought we’d gotten all of them.”

“Jacobs said there were only five.” Xander said.

“He obviously lied.” Angel folded his arms across his chest, “The thistle-hole’s gone though, so there’s not many places he can get to.”

“I’ll go to Riley,” Buffy said, “Ask him for any other locations the Initiative might have used. See if he can help.”

“I’ll go with you.” Angel offered, looking back at Spike only to see him staring at him with dull eyes, “Spike.”

“You should have let me shoot him.”

 _“Spike …”_ He took a step toward him but Spike backed away, angry now.

“I’m going to Giles’.” He said and Angel paused for a moment.

“Not alone.”

“Obviously not. _Giles_ is coming with me.” Giles raised his eyebrows at that, the decision made for him though he didn’t feel the need to argue it.

“Someone else.” Angel added, “No offense Giles, but if Mackley comes – ”

“I could go.” Willow said, “I could – do a spell. Protect the house. I’ve been practicing one lately, and I can do one that lasts for maybe half a day. Sometimes.”

Angel looked at her, “Okay. Fine. Willow’ll do a spell but you all _stay put.”_

“I’m going home but Xander can come by after.” Anya offered, ignoring the look her boyfriend gave her at that.

“Okay.”

Spike didn’t answer either of them and just waited for Giles to lead the way out, following him back down the street to the house. Once inside, they locked all the doors and windows and Willow sat cross-legged by the entrance with her magic book in her lap.

“You need anything for this voodoo?” Spike asked her, sitting on the floor as well with a packet of digestives inside his sling, munching on one as he spoke, “Eye of newt? Blood of a virgin?”

“Silence?” She smiled and he mimed a zip over his mouth and sat back to watch as she read aloud from the pages, her eyes shining for just a moment and then a wave of something ran through them and over the walls, “Okay.” She shook her head, as though shaking a fly away, “That should do it.”

“Cool.” Spike lay down, staring up at the ceiling and balancing a biscuit on his nose, “So now we just sit here. Like always.”

“We don’t have to just sit,” Willow said, slowly, “We could play a game.”

“Like Poker?” Spike looked at her, interested.

“Maybe more like … monopoly?”

“I don’t have monopoly.” Giles called from the kitchen, over Spike’s groan, “But I do have Scrabble?”

“Great.” Spike thumped his head back over the carpet. “Fuck my unlife.”

.

“The only place I can think of would be the old Initiative building,” Riley said, leaning back against the hospital bed’s pillows, “But it’s been locked down and the code I have for it would have alerted me if anyone got through.”

“They could have used magic.” Angel reminded him.

“They could have, yeah. Which is why I’m mentioning it and not ruling it out. To be honest though, Mackley getting out would only mean one thing.”

“Spike.” Angel grit his teeth but Riley shook his head.

“No. That’s obviously only been Jacob’s plan. No, Mackley would just avoid the police, avoid being arrested, leave town.”

“With a trained vampire soldier.” Buffy finished, “I can’t let him do that.”

“He’ll need provisions first, anyway,” Riley said, “Travelling documents, ID. He’ll head for his house, probably. Or the barracks at the new base.” He chewed on his lip, “How long’s he been gone?”

“Half an hour. Maybe more.”

“Then you might just catch him.”

.

“Carl is a _name_ , Spike,” Giles said, taking the letters off the board, “We decided names wouldn’t be allowed.”

Spike put them back on, “Carl also means lower-class. So it counts.”

Giles frowned, looking at Willow, who opened the dictionary. Again. “Carl; a peasant or a man of low birth.” She read, “Guess it counts.”

Sighing, Giles added the total and scribbled it into the book, “That makes 24 then.”

“Oi. Triple word.”

He rolled his eyes, calculating that in his head quickly, “72.”

Smug, Spike picked out his new letters and popped them into his slide, clicking them around as he immediately made part of a word for his next turn.

It was Willow’s turn now however and she put down three letters around an ‘f’ to make ‘font’, making a face as she did when all it got her was a ‘12’.

“Could’ve done ‘affront’.” Spike offered, leaning over her.

“Stop looking at my letters!” He smiled, sitting back, but then a loud yell had them all out of their seats.

Willow grabbed her book and the kitchen knife she’d brought out to the table but then she realised no one else was facing the door like she was. Instead, they were looking at Jacobs.

Since Buffy had knocked him out, he’d not woken back up, and they’d had bigger problems than to check why. Now however, she wondered if there had been something else going on that had kept him asleep because now, he was looking right at them and seemed terrified.

“Wha – ?” He swallowed, darting his gaze around him and over each of them before falling on Spike, “You. You _bitch._ Where is she? Huh?”

Spike didn’t answer and at first, Willow thought he was being stubborn or just glaring, but then she felt it. Fear, in his aura.

“Where’s who?” Giles asked, “Medyria?”

“Don’t you speak her name!” Jacobs barked at him, “You don’t know. You don’t fucking know.”

“Know that she’s a God? Or that she’s dead?”

Jacobs sagged, shocked, “Dead? No. No she can’t be dead. I didn’t – I did it _right_ , I did everything – ” He honed in on Spike again, “You. You did something! You _fucking_ – I’m gonna – ” He struggled against his bonds, veins standing in his neck as he forced every part of his strength into trying to break free.

Spike took a step back but Giles put a hand on his shoulder, “He won’t get out of those. He can scream all he want, he’s not – ”

 _“Fiovorne!”_ The bonds burst off of him and he lunged to his feet, his eyes burning with anger.

Willow backed up herself now, wide-eyed, before looking down at her book to try to find a spell to imprison him again. She read aloud as soon as she found the right one, “Open bonds, closed you were. As once was, be now – ”

With a roar, Jacobs slammed a fist into her cheek, sending her colliding into the table and spilling their scrabble letters everywhere. Enraged, Jacobs then lifted a stool and chucked it at Spike, blocking the punch Giles sent his way and hitting him in the stomach. He kneed him in the face before he could recover from that and threw him to the ground, using his foot to roll the stool off of Spike’s legs.

Spike kicked out, scrambling back with the help of only one arm, but Jacobs grabbed an ankle and dragged him down.

“Get off me!” He kicked again, this time hitting something, and Jacobs let go. He stumbled to his feet then, running for the door and gasping as adrenaline ran through him. He threw himself out into the street, running as fast as he could until he collided into someone.

He was caught and struggled, instinctively afraid, only to stop when he heard a voice he recognised.

“Hey, easy, woah,” Xander held him until he stopped squirming, looking both confused and shocked himself, “Hey where’s the fire? What’s going on?”

“Jacobs.” Spike panted, “He – he got out. He knows magic. The others – ”

“You _left_ them there?” Letting him go, Xander pushed past him for the house.

“I – ” Spike swallowed, wrapping his arms around his middle, unsure of what to do. Did he go back? He’d run out of fear but now that he’d gotten away, he realised what he’d done. Giles and Willow had been there to protect him and he’d abandoned them at the first sign of trouble.

His legs wouldn’t move however and he couldn’t make himself head back to the house. Instead, he walked backward, looking around for somewhere to go, before remembering an address and running for it. He banged on the door once he arrived, knocking and knocking until it opened and Joyce stood there in a sleeping gown.

“Spike,” She looked surprised, looking him over, “Are you – ?” She visibly seemed to realise how distressed he was and moved aside to let him in, “Here. Sit down.”

He shook, gulping in short breaths to try to calm down enough and explain what was happening but nothing was working. He couldn’t breathe and after over 100 years of not needing to, the way it made him feel now was sick.

“Alright, it’s alright,” Joyce put a hand on his back, “You need to slow down, Spike. Breathe. _Breathe. …_ In ... Out.” She breathed with him, lifting a hand to indicate when he should inhale or exhale, and after a few moments the black dots in his vision faded.

“Bloody hell.” He croaked, his eyes wet and his face flushed, “I couldn’t – ”

“You were hyperventilating, it’s alright, it happens. Why don’t you tell me what caused it?” He stared at her, trying to find the right way to start the explanation without wasting too much time, “Do I need to call Buffy? Is it those soldiers?”

Soldiers? So she knew. He nodded and she stood, heading for her phone. She spoke into it urgently and he heard his name spoken more than once and then she was back.

“Alright, she’s on her way. She said she’d be needed at Giles’ house, is that right?” He nodded again, “Okay. That’s good then. Help is on the way.” He shut his eyes, his damn heart hammering in his chest. “Spike?”

“I – ” He swallowed, his throat suddenly incredibly dry, “One of them, those soldiers – the _leader_. He was – he was tied up there but he – he got out. And I ran.” He looked away, “I ran and I left them there.”

“Left who?”

 _“Giles_. And, and Red – Willow.” He clenched his hands over his knees, “I just ran away.”

“You were scared, that’s perfectly natural.”

“I’m tired of being scared!” He pushed her hands away from where they’d lain over his own, “I’m so tired of – I don’t want to _be_ like this. I see them and I freeze. Every time, I can’t – I’m not supposed to _do_ that.”

“Says who?”

“Says me!” He wiped at his eyes, “I don’t run from things. I don’t – they’re just _men_. Just three men but I – !” He put his head in his hands, “I close my eyes and I feel what they did. I _see_ what they did to me. I can’t get it out of my head, I always – it’s always there.” He sobbed and within seconds, he was in her arms. He didn’t know how much she knew but right now, he couldn’t care less as he admitted it, “They _hurt_ me Joyce. They’ve been hurting me.”

“It’s alright.”

“And they’ll do it again … they’ll get out of wherever they’re put. They’ll get me again.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead pressed to her neck.

“We won’t let them.”

“And I _can’t_. Not again. I can’t.”

“It’s alright now, it’s _okay,”_ She rubbed a hand down his back, still holding him close, “I’m here Spike. I’m here.” He lifted his arms and wrapped them around her, crying into her shoulder. She planned to hold him for however long it took to calm him down but after only a few minutes, he pulled away.

He quickly wiped at his eyes and cheeks, hiding all evidence of what he’d just done, though she couldn’t understand why until she heard a creak on the stairs.

She turned and saw Dawn peering through the gaps in the bannister, “Dawn.” She stood, frowning, “You should be in bed.”

“I could hear Spike,” She said, slowly, “And I thought something might be wrong. Like – monster-stuff-going-wrong.”

“Buffy’s already on the case, Niblet.” Spike said, smiling with absolutely no sign of how vulnerable he’d been only moments ago, “I’m just here to make sure nothing gets through your door. Anything does happen, I’ll come get you, but for now, you should probably just get to bed.”

Satisfied that she wasn’t being left out of something and that she’d been spoken to like an adult, Dawn pushed away from the bannister and padded back up to her room. “Goodnight.” She called as she went.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” Joyce leant closer to the stairs, listening out for the sound of her mattress squeaking and the door shutting. Once she heard it, she returned to the sofa but didn’t sit. Instead, she asked, “Would you like some hot chocolate?”

Spike looked up at her, his face softening into amusement and he snorted, “Yeah go on then.”

Joyce made herself a mug and gave Spike his at the table by the kitchen’s doors, telling him about a new gallery-line she was working with to fill the silence and take his mind off things.

“The things people turn their noses up at, honestly.” She shook her head, stirring the cocoa when a film started to rise to the surface, “A perfectly preserved lamp from the early 1920s and all my customers hear are ‘that’s disgusting’ from this couple who are _always_ nosing about.”

“They ever buy anything?”

“No.”

“Thought not. Classic technique from swindlers.” He sipped at his cocoa, “Make other customers change their mind about buying from you and then get in when the prices go down.” He rolled his eyes, “How much for the lamp anyway?”

“$30.”

“I would’ve gotten it. For my crypt.” She smiled at him, “Really, I would’ve! I miss some of the old furniture.”

“Oh that’s right,” Her smile grew, “You would have been around when it was being used.” He nodded and she flicked a strand of hair from her face, joining him at the table, “Alright. Answer me this then. What period of furniture did you think outshone all the others?”

“Furniture?” He frowned, “Things got downright ugly in the 1940s so that’s out. 1920s _was_ lovely. Chairs had these gold trims, chandeliers became popular. ‘Course only if you were rich.”

“Of course.”

“My mum had this – _desk_ though. It was my father’s but she gave it to me when he left. I did my studies there.” He smiled, “It was … oak, I think. Varnished and there were these … markings.” He trailed a hand in the air, “Like Chinese letters. I used to copy them to paper but they never looked like they did in the wood.” He lowered his hand, taking a gulp of cocoa.

“What period would that have been?” Joyce asked him, softly.

“Last I saw it, it was 1888. Or ‘89.” He pressed his lips together, “Last time I saw my mum. You’d think I’d remember the exact year but I – ” He rolled his eyes at himself, “God if she could see me now.”

“I’d think she’d be concerned for you.”

He looked at her, “Probably. She never did care that I was, you know. What did the boys at Oxford call it?” He made a face, pretending to think, “Oh yeah. _Sensitive.”_

“Well it’s a good thing you lived through the centuries then,” She said, “Because nowadays, sensitive men are the sought-out thing.”

Spike gave her a look, wrinkling his nose, “I’ll pass. Not looking for a relationship where I’m only wanted because someone else wants a crybaby.”

“That’s not – ” There was a crash in the garden and she sighed, putting her mug down, “That damned racoon.”

“Want me to go? Might not be a racoon.”

“No it is,” She pointed out the window, “I can see it scavenging about.” She smiled, “I’ll be right back. Though I will appreciate you keeping an eye while I’m gone.”

“Sure.” He stood to take her place in the kitchen as she put on some garden slippers and went out. He saw her grab a broom and slap it against the wall, startling the racoon into leaving the dustbin and scampering off. Spike snorted at the look of frustrated amusement on Joyce’s face as she returned.

“That was quick,” He commented.

“Oh it’s a habit now,” She washed her hands in the sink, “I know the animal’s got to eat but I’d rather not have it poking around where Dawn might come across it. I’ve got enough to worry about with vampires and demons running around, rabies is the last thing we need.”

He sat back at the table, facing her, “You know, if Buffy trained in the garden, got all riled up and stuff, her pheromones would go crazy. She has this predator-air when she’s fighting, as the Slayer. It’d probably put all racoons off.”

Joyce looked at him, “Really?”

“Mm hm. Most animals have a better sense of it than humans.”

He lifted his mug up to take a sip only to choke on it when the woman he’d just been speaking about suddenly stormed in. Behind her was a handcuffed Jacobs and Spike almost fell in his haste to stand up.

“What the hell is he doing here?!” Buffy looked at him, as though surprised he’d be here himself.

“Oh. I figured it’d be safer if I kept an eye on him.” She held a hand up, “He’s not staying here though, don’t worry. It’s just until the truck arrives.”

“Truck?” Spike frowned, just as Joyce stepped in from the kitchen. “What _truck?”_

“We’re taking them to the police directly.” Buffy explained, “All three of them. Mackley was caught at the barracks.” She grabbed Jacobs by the arm and pushed him onto the sofa, “Angel’s on his way too.”

Spike stared at her, his hands clenched tight, but he didn’t argue it. As long as the Slayer was around him, he doubted Jacobs would try anything, and she wouldn’t have brought something dangerous into her home with her mother and sister about.

Keeping that in his head like a mantra, he decided to wait for when this man would finally be out of his life, when he then realised two very important things.

One; Buffy hadn’t checked that her mother and sister were alright – something she did every time she was called.

Two; Jacobs wasn’t gagged but he wasn’t speaking willingly either, and was just sitting patient in a way that was utterly different to his manner back at Giles’.

He took a step back slowly, looking at Joyce, “Uh. Joyce. Do you mind if I wait in your bedroom?”

She blinked, “Of course, I – ”

“You mind showing me where it is?” He took her by the arm, something Buffy again didn’t react to, and he grabbed the phone on his way past. Spike pulled her up as subtly and discreetly as he could, thankful she didn’t complain, and once they were in Dawn’s room he let go and pushed the dresser in front of the door.

“Mom?” Dawn sat up, looking at them both. Her lamp was on which meant she’d clearly not been asleep but right now, Joyce’s main concern was being locked in a bedroom when her eldest was right downstairs.

“Spike, what’s the matter? Buffy’s – ”

“That’s not her.” He told her, “It’s one of those vampires they trained. We need to – ” He held the phone up, “Do you know her number by heart?”

She took it and dialled quickly, sitting beside Dawn and putting an arm around her shoulder. A moment later, she spoke, “Buffy? Hi. Are you downstairs right now? … then we have a problem.”

.

Buffy snapped her phone shut, her knee in Jacobs’ back as she held him down. “I’ve got to get home.” She said, pushing the man beneath her further into the carpet when he struggled to escape, “One of the vampires is there pretending to be me and I think it’s got Mackley with him.”

“I’ll take him, you go.” Angel said, reaching down to grip Jacobs by the back of his neck. Giles was currently sitting on the sofa with a hand to his bruised side and Willow had a wad of tissues pressed to a cut in her forehead with Xander by her side. The house was a wreck from a mixture of spells and fighting.

Whatever Jacobs had been doing to try to resurrect Medyria, it had given him quite a lot of juice. In the end though, a centuries-old vampire and slayer had brought him down.

Unfortunately, as soon as he heard a location, he shut his eyes and Buffy fell forward when he suddenly vanished from under her.

“What – ?” She looked at Giles, wide-eyed.

“Teleportation spell.” He murmured, “He – he may know your address through Riley.”

“Shit!” She scrambled to her feet, getting her coat, “Mom and Dawn are locked in Dawn’s room with Spike.” She called after Angel when he left her to run for the house. “Stay here.” She told the others. Xander gave her a look which indicated that he’d wanted to get back to Anya but she ignored it in favour of her priority right now.

Her family.

Her legs burned with how fast she ran, a million thoughts running through her head, and when she heard Dawn scream she felt her heart almost stop.

“Dawn!” She jumped for the window, grabbing the ledge and climbing up. Dawn had her back to the wall and saw her, letting her in and hugging her tight, “Dawn – are you okay? Where’s – ?”

There was a crack and she turned to see Spike pressing himself against the door, trying to hold the vampire that was outside it out. Joyce was there as well, pushing the dresser they must have put in front of it with all her strength.

“Mom.” Buffy let Dawn go and put a hand on Joyce’s shoulder, gently pushing her aside. Spike saw her and moved as well, letting her shove the dresser away and take her stake out from her bag. With no obstructions now, the vampire burst in, saw her, and attacked.

It didn’t look like her anymore, clearly having realised the trick hadn’t worked, and was a young man instead. She knew he’d been tortured, experimented on, and made into this soldier but her sympathy was a distraction.

He was still a vampire.

Avoiding a blow, she stuck the stake through his heart and watched as he exploded into dust. Joyce had a hand pressed to her chest, clearly still not used to seeing that happen, and she grabbed her youngest and held her tight and away from the door.

Buffy looked to make sure they were both okay before turning to Spike, “Where’s Mackley?” A roar from downstairs let them know that Angel had arrived, probably earlier than she had, though he must have taken the front entrance instead. “Never mind.”

She ran into her room and opened the weapons chest, grabbing a sword and tossing Spike a crossbow. He caught it, looking surprised she’d even given it to him, but he followed her downstairs nonetheless.

Angel had Mackley by the neck, a gun on the floor behind them, and though he looked like he wanted nothing else but to kill him, he held out until he lost consciousness and then let him go.

Mackley slumped to the ground, in his own form now, and Angel plucked a bottle out from his front pocket. He tossed it at Buffy, who caught it.

“It’s how they changed form.” He explained, “Must have taken them a while to control it but – they got there.” He shook his head, “Whatever they did to the vampires also stopped them from needing invitations.” He nodded at a pile of dust on the carpet, “He just waltzed right in.”

Buffy pocketed the vial, “Where’s Jacobs?” She asked, looking around.

Spike turned to her, “What?” He blinked, “He’s – you didn’t – _get_ him?”

“He vanished.” Buffy told him, “Teleportation spell.”

“So he could be _anywhere?”_

“No.” She pressed her lips together, “He went as soon as he knew Mackley was here. He must have – ”

There was a scream from upstairs and she snapped her eyes toward it, paling. All three of them ran up, skidding to a halt when they saw Jacobs stood in Dawn’s bedroom, the teenager with her back pressed to his chest as he held her in place.

He had a knife to her throat, pricking it just enough that the slightest movement would cut. Joyce was on the floor, clearly having been hit, and Buffy took a very pissed-off step forward when she saw.

“Ah, ah,” Jacobs, stopped her, “Come closer, I slit your sister’s throat.”

She froze, shaking with anger, “Let her go.”

“Yeah. That’ll work.” He scoffed, “I’m not doing a reasoning bit here, Slayer, I’m doing a swap. You give me him,” He nodded at Spike, “I give you her.” He held Dawn a little tighter and she whimpered. “Simple.”

“Not happening.” Angel took a step forward himself now, standing in front of Spike, but a hand on his arm pushed him away.

“Deal.” Spike said, ignoring the way Angel tried to grab him and walking toward Jacobs, holding an arm out, “Let her go, you get me.”

Jacobs looked at him, “Smart. But first,” He hitched Dawn closer when Buffy tried to get to her, “I want to know. Medyria. Is she dead?”

Spike considered lying, considered the knife close to Dawn’s neck, but his hesitation was answer enough. Jacobs shoved Dawn to the ground and lunged for him, his necklace swinging as he went to stab _him_ instead but a gunshot rang out before he could.

Jacobs fell, a hand to his bleeding stomach and Spike held the gun that he’d taken from downstairs tighter, aiming it again.

“You – ” Jacobs stared up at him, beyond shocked and whatever expression he saw scared him. He held a hand up, “Wait – ”

Spike fired. And then fired again, and again. He continued to shoot until the gun clicked empty and then he dropped it, breathing shakily.

Without the gun in his hands, he let them drop to his side.

.

Angel called a friend he had in the force and had Mackley and Hank incarcerated. She was apparently made aware of their true crimes and between them they’d managed to get a case made, but before they’d even picked them up, a freak accident had had them boil and then die from unnatural burns.

Anya denied any involvement, saying she couldn’t have done so anyhow as she was human now, but when Xander asked if she still had vengeance demon _friends_ , she smiled and shrugged.

Spike had then spent hours worrying if he’d be prosecuted as well only to learn that Jacobs had been injecting himself with demon blood to give him the strength needed to perform high-level magical spells. Buffy had taken that to mean that he’d had enough demon in him to warrant his death not to be treated as human, and had told Spike this after spending a lot of time trying to find out more.

She denied that she’d done that to help him, though there was no other reason to have tried so hard.

Now that they had time to breathe, Spike had finally been checked over by the clinic Giles had offered from the start, and he was told that the scars on his arm would eventually heal and not mar his skin forever. Under a scan, the word he’d tried to cut out had been revealed to be ‘whore’, and Giles had used one of his magic books unasked, to heal the skin faster than it would have done itself.

They also learnt that with Medyria dead, Spike’s shapeshifting had stopped entirely.

Willow read from Jacobs journal that his shifting had apparently gotten stronger through emotion, and that the more emotional he’d been, the more he’d turned. It had fed into the theory that his shifting had reacted to Angel as well, though she guessed the Witch had had more to do with that by way of her dropping them clues.

She learnt the Witch’s real name as well; Abygnael. She’d been called Abigail simply because the soldiers hadn’t bothered to learn how to say it.

Bit by bit, their days began to get back to normal, or as normal as they could be. Joyce had a bump on the head from Jacobs’ attack, though it was nothing serious and she went back to work right away. Dawn however, complained about going to school after having been through such an ordeal, but she eventually went with her feet dragging the entire walk.

Riley was released from hospital as well, and when he’d been told that the three soldiers were dead, he didn’t seem to grieve them in any way. And three days later, he disbanded the base and told the soldiers who worked under him to return to their previous Commander and to leave Sunnydale.

Jacobs’ journal was burned once Willow learnt all she could, just in case anyone tried to resurrect another dead God, as not all of them would have diminished power like Medyria had. She then cheerily invited Spike to Tara’s birthday party, having already mentioned it to everyone else.

Spike refused however, still trying to come to terms with being human now, and time-and-time again he woke from nightmares of blood and killing and his own rape. He’d shower late at night, scrubbing himself hard, and Giles would wake to hear him but let him be.

He began to look into counselling, or therapy, but two weeks after everything that had happened, Angel approached him with an offer.

“I’m going to ask Spike to come back with me,” He said, “To L.A.”

Giles put the book he’d been reading down, along with his glasses, “Is that wise?”

“He’s safe with me,” Angel shrugged, “And. I’d feel better knowing where he was.”

“Your work isn’t exactly free from danger.”

“Neither is yours.”

“No, but Spike could work anywhere. He doesn’t have to stay in Sunnydale.”

Angel paused, sitting down, “Where else could he go? He doesn’t have papers – ”

“I’m in the process of getting those.”

“Okay. But still. Where?”

Giles reached down to open a drawer, pulling free a large manila envelope. “I called in a favour.” He said, “With the Council. And I learnt that Spike’s record suddenly enlarged overnight a few weeks ago.”

“… Abygnael.” Angel realised, “She was told to get information.”

“And she left it for us to find as well.”

Angel pursed his lips, uncomfortable, “Is – _everything_ in it?”

“Nothing personal.” Giles shook his head, “She just left us with pure facts.”

Angel frowned, “Why?”

“Because I believe she knew what I’d do with it.” He pushed the envelope toward Angel, “And the records vanished once I’d had a look.”

Slowly, Angel opened the envelope, pulling free a sheet of paper. Inside was a DNA match result and a family tree. At the start was Anne Margret Pratt and a James Gilbert Pratt; William James Pratt was written beneath.

James then veered off to one side, joined by a Mary Gussett, and beneath them were two names. Penelope Gussett and Victor Gussett. Penelope joined a Robert and had three children. Two died young, one married and had a child in 1890. That child then married and had five children. Three died young, two married and the eldest died childless. The last child had a baby in 1910 and it continued on, through to 1942 and then to 1963.

The last name was Grant Gussett and beside him was _‘Alive – aged 37 years’._

Angel looked up, seeing Giles watching him, “This is – Spike’s family-line?”

“Grant Gussett is his Great-great-great- _great_ Nephew.” He pointed to the DNA match, “I had it checked.”

“And you think, what? That this guy will just take Spike in?”

“I don’t know,” Giles leant back, “But he won’t be able to deny their relation. I’d hoped to give this information to Spike, see what he’d want to do with the fact that he has family out there.”

“But?”

“But he refuses to read it.”

“Right.” Taking the envelope, Angel left the shop to head for Giles’ house, finding Spike sitting on the bed in the guest room with a bottle of nail-polish open and his toes spread out.

“Come in, why don’t you.” He muttered sarcastically, swiping a stripe of black colour onto his big toenail. Angel tossed the envelope down beside him and sat on the bed, watching Spike scramble to grab the bottle before it split as he did.

“So Grant Gussett huh.” He said, picking up a magazine that Spike had obviously used to wipe smudged nail polish onto, “Your great-great nephew and he’s older than you.” He looked at him, “Well older than you now, anyway. Ignoring the 100 years you were a vampire.”

“We’re barely related,” Spike rolled his eyes, “I never met any Mary Gussett, or whatever her name was.” So he had read it, “Nice to know dear-old-dad missed us so much he made a new family, though. Really warms the heart.” He blew over his nails, drying them.

“Well there’s some connection,” Angel said, “The DNA test – ”

“What do you want me to do Angel?” Spike asked him wearily, “Jump for joy? Run to meet my long-lost relative and join the family barbecues and birthday parties?” He sighed, screwing the lid back on the polish, “You think I could do that? I can’t even live with how I am now, but yeah. Let’s go screw up some random family with my issues.”

“Is that what you think you’d do?” Angel frowned, “Screw it up?”

“Not looking for a pep-talk.”

“And I’m not giving one. I’m genuinely asking.”

Spike looked at him and then leant back against the pillows, sighing loudly, “I just – don’t think I could do it, okay? Be _normal_ after everything I’ve seen or done. It wouldn’t – I can’t do it.” He folded his arms across his chest, sullen, “There. Happy? You got an honest answer.”

“Well you don’t have to go,” Angel flicked his foot, smiling when Spike scowled at that, “You could come with me. To L..A.”

“And do what?” Spike snorted.

“And help out. Help fight. With me.” He shuffled a little closer, “And I could help too. With the soul. I have a little experience with dealing with one after a history like ours.”  

“What, like with nightmares?”

“Nightmares. Guilt. Pain.” Angel placed a hand on his head, a gesture he was starting to do more often than not, “I can help.”

For a moment, Spike looked tempted, but then he shook his head, “We’ll drive each other up the wall. Once you get over this protective shtick you’ve got going on right now, you’ll be back to being a broody git and I don’t want to deal with that.”

“I’m not a – ” Angel started to protest before visibly deciding not to, “Look. The option’s on the table. You can’t live off Giles forever.”

Spike sobered at that, looking down at his lap. He’d obviously had the same thought himself but it was different hearing it said aloud. Angel left him then, sliding his hand down from Spike’s head to cup his cheek for a moment and then pushing himself to his feet.

He heard Spike lift the envelope a moment later.

After yet another week of normalness, Angel eventually went back to L.A. and reminded Spike about his offer. Instead of agreeing to go with him however, Spike asked for a lift to the airport. Giles had gotten him the papers he needed, and he was now William Pratt once again, ‘born’ 3rd of April 1975.

He’d bought a ticket with Giles’ credit card and had said his goodbyes as casually as he could, fully intending on not staying in England long. And he still wasn’t sure how they all felt about him, considering the huge change he’d gone through in so many ways, and how he’d abandoned Willow and Giles to Jacobs as well.

He was hugged pretty tight though, by a lot of them, and that helped ease the pressure off his chest.

Angel dropped him off at the airport and he took the 6am flight to London Gatwick, landing there in the early evening.

According to the envelope, Grant Gussett lived in Preston Park which was only an hour away, so he took a taxi and trawled the streets to look for the house when he arrived. Several drunk teens hollered at him as he passed, commenting on his hair, but when he ignored them they lost interest and laughed at something else they found.

He was near a church when he found Cumberland Street and then there it was. A white-bricked flat.

Feeling utterly stupid, he turned to walk away. What the hell was he thinking? What was he even supposed to _say?_ He didn’t know why he’d agreed to come here, he should have just gone with Angel.

What a waste of time and money.

He sighed, holding the envelope tighter and walking up the steps to the flat. His brain yelled at him, telling him to turn back, but then his hand was moving on its own and he was knocking on the door.

There was a rattle as it unlocked and then a middle-aged man peered out at him.

“Yeah?” He asked, looking him over.

“Uh.” Spike blinked, taking a step back when a large dog suddenly appeared behind the man’s legs and tried to get to him.

“Dammit. Oscar! Oscar _back!_ Hey!” The man’s voice became firmer and he snapped his fingers. The dog whined, panting happily and looking at Spike like it was begging to be pet, “Sorry about him. He’s a bloody excitable thing.”

“It’s alright,” Spike mumbled, regretting his decision to come here, “I just – Is your name … Grant Gussett?”

“Grant? No, that’s my roommate.” He was struggling now, to keep the dog back, “He’s at work but – Oscar! Down!”

The dog whined again and Spike smiled, putting out a hand and letting it sniff.

“I wouldn’t,” The man warned, “He’s got a drooling problem.” Spike pat the dog once on the head anyway, putting his hand in his pocket afterward and it calmed down a little, letting the man speak properly, “Right. Well uh, I can tell Grant you stopped by?”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Who should I say asked?”

Spike froze for a moment, taking in a slow breath, and considering lying or just running away. Instead, he decided to go with what he’d been told, “Tell him William Pratt came by. I’ll be staying at a hotel here, and I’ll stop by again tomorrow. What time will he be in?”

“He works nights so if you come after 10, he’ll be here.” He scratched at his head, “You’re not a Jehovah’s Witness though, are you?”

Spike raised an eyebrow, “Not last time I checked.” Putting a hand up in goodbye, he turned to leave, hearing Oscar whine once again. But then the man called him back.

“Hey hang on! You want a beer?”

Spike smiled, “God yes.”

.

Three beers and a coke later, Spike learnt that Jack Gamon was a friendly and extroverted man.

He was also an accountant and a great host. Despite not knowing who he was, he’d given him beer and crisps, along with an offer of leftover macaroni.

He’d also not technically invited him in, which was good as he didn’t need it anymore, but also made him wonder if he was aware of demons or just didn’t bother being formal.

Oscar calmed down when he was sat down too, putting a drooling head in his lap and panting with every scratch behind the ear that Spike gave him.

He also learnt about Grant too.

Apparently he worked as a researcher in the local University and only worked nights so he could have his days to be with his daughter. She was turning five soon and her mother worked days as a lawyer. All in all, a pretty well-off family.

Grant also apparently only roomed with Jack if he was working more than three days a week, as his own house was a little further away, and Jack was an old school friend who he’d kept in contact with.

The flat was pretty decent too, nicely decorated and perfectly sized. Seemed like those in his bloodline did well for themselves.

Around midnight however, Spike had to regretfully leave, though he’d actually enjoyed the company. He called a hotel nearby and got a room for the night, walking the way with his bags as it was only a five minute journey.

The receptionist was half asleep but still quite chipper when she booked him in, giving him a key-card and telling him the breakfast times. He nodded at her and took the lift to his floor and then shuffled down the hall to his room. Once inside, he dumped his bags and fell onto the bed; utterly exhausted.

Once Abygnael had died, the spell that she’d been forced to put on him had broken and he was free to travel again and yet, he actually felt homesick for Sunnydale. Despite the fact that he was in the country he’d been born in now instead.

He rolled over, opening his bags to take out a pair of pyjamas. Joyce had bought him an entire wardrobe before he’d left and he’d promised to buy her a souvenir from England in return when she refused money for it. The pyjamas were dark blue and woolly, perfect for a chilly night, and he put them on and curled under the blankets.

Along with jet-lag and the thrum of beer in him, he fell asleep pretty quickly. But then he dreamt. He always dreamt nowadays.

Tonight, he remembered the gypsies that he, Dru and Darla had killed after Angelus had gotten souled. He hadn’t known why at the time but Darla’s anger at them had been nigh on merciless. And she’d encouraged it in them too.

He remembered ripping the throat out of a young girl, probably fourteen or fifteen years old, and shoving her dead eyes into her father’s sobbing face.

He woke up sweating, shaking, and rolled to his side to hug his knees to his chest. Without the demon in him he didn’t know what to do with these kinds of memories. Once he would have relished them but now?

He pressed a hand to his mouth and lurched out of bed quickly, vomiting into the toilet.

He fell asleep a second time after that, holding the blanket close, but this time he dreamt of Jacobs and the lab. He pressed his hands into his face and whined.

Hours later, he was as exhausted as ever, and he had a long cold shower to try to wake up. He’d gotten used to getting up at normal times now, like a human, but he still wasn’t much of a morning person. Once he was dressed, he went down for breakfast and drank two mugs of coffee.

The one thing he could say he was glad of though, was the food. As a vampire he’d eaten for the texture and the memory, but the taste had never been as vibrant as it was now; he’d enjoyed it nonetheless.

Eating now, however, was amazing. He had two portions of bacon and beans and practically inhaled the chocolate chip cookies he got as well. By the time he went to go and meet Grant, he was in a better mood than he’d been in a while, and almost forgot the envelope in his haste to go.

As he’d been told yesterday, Grant was home when he knocked, and both Jack and Oscar were nowhere to be seen. A sharp-looking man opened the door and this time he looked just like the photograph Giles had obtained.

“Grant Gussett?” Spike asked.

.

Shock was probably the first emotion he saw. And then disbelief. Then more shock. And then bewilderment.

“And you say – your great-grandfather was a Wallace McGovern?” Spike nodded and Grant sat back in his seat, “Whew. I mean – wow. I had no idea anyone – I mean mum always said her great-aunts and uncles hadn’t survived the war like most everyone’s. If she knew one of their _kids_ had, I mean – _wow.”_

“Is she around?” Spike asked.

“No. She died a couple of years ago.” Grant sighed, putting the envelope down, “She would have been stoked to meet you though. I mean, _I’m_ stoked. I’ve got a cousin I didn’t even know _existed_. My wife’s always had the family, but with me, it’s just been me and my parents.”

Spike pressed his lips together, not quite sure what to say to that.

”I gotta ask though,” Grant continued anyway, “Why’d you change the name back to Pratt?”

And here was what Giles had told him to memorise, “I was named after William Pratt, my great-great-great- _great_ grandad. Figured I’d commemorate him by keeping the name.”

“Commemorate?”

“Yeah, uh. You might not know this, seeing as his dad left and got a new family. Your ancestors,” Spike said, “But the first William Pratt disappeared one day. Had an empty-casket funeral four years later when he wasn’t found. His mum vanished too.”

“God.” Grant looked shocked again, “They never found him?”

“No. His uh – his wife stopped looking and just raised her kid. And then down the line, here I am, named after him.”

“Wow.” Grant shook his head, “I only got _my_ name because my mum loved Hugh Grant.”

Spike smiled.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I keep adding chapters but I _swear_ it will end on 5!


	5. Chapter 5

.

Gradually, being human stopped being something raw and started being helpful.

With a beating heart and being able to see the sun, he didn’t need to convince Grant and his family that he couldn’t go out with them during the day, and he could eat meals with them and not be starved of blood. The cross on their wall didn’t repel him and when he got mad, he didn’t get bumpy.

The only downsides he had were the memories of what he’d done as a vampire and the memories of the strength that he’d lost as well. His senses felt dulled most of the time and Sophia, Grant’s daughter, had succeeded on sneaking up on him once-or-twice.

And then there were the nightmares.

He hadn’t expected them to disappear in the two weeks he’d been here, but they seemed to be getting worse instead of better. Melissa, Grant’s wife, was ‘worried’ and told him to talk to someone about whatever it was he suffered from.

She was a sweet woman, someone his demon would probably have taken the time to kill slowly, but she was also a little snobbish too; though she hid it. He knew her concern was mostly for her daughter, as though she was afraid he’d one day attack her in his sleep, but he also knew that she didn’t want him here and at times she didn’t even try to hide it.

But that was fine, he was used to not being wanted, and being around the family was his best shot at moving on in his second chance at humanity. He’d rejected the idea back in Sunnydale but now that he’d had time to think about it, he didn’t plan on wasting it.

Besides being normal didn’t sound so bad now, he’d gotten through a lot of pain to get to this point and after everything, it was nice here and he was more relaxed with the family than he had been in a long time.

Sophia was smart for her age, she liked to read and play chess, and Grant had welcomed Spike into his home with open arms. Jack was as accommodating too and when she wasn’t being off, Melissa had a couple of nice chats with him as well.

There was just the nagging sense of homesickness for Sunnydale that he had to ignore now-and-again, but other than that, he felt content. He felt calm.

“Uncle Will,” Sophia peeked her head into the guestroom, “My daddy’s calling you.”

“Thanks, Peppa.” She grinned at the nickname, happy that he was the only one who called her by it, and smiled as well. The first few days he’d been here, he’d learnt that she was obsessed with a cartoon pig and wanted to be its twin, and when he’d humoured her he’d instantly become a friend. “On my way.”

She ran off and he put the book that he’d been reading down. Since his days back in his mother’s library, literature had changed a lot, and he’d not exactly spent time reading as a vampire. Now, he was catching up, and had stumbled upon a series he was enjoying.

Grant was in his office when he knocked and he swivelled in his seat to face him, “Hey. Sophia come grab you?”

“She said you were calling me?”

“Yeah, you were probably miles away,” He turned back to his work, opening his laptop, “I wanted to show you something.”

Spike stepped closer, looking at the screen. On it was a GPs website and Grant was hovering over a slot for next Wednesday. He frowned and Grant immediately went onto damage control.

“I know, I’m meddling, I’m sorry. It’s just – Mel and I, we – well whatever’s going on with you, we thought it might help if you got it out.”

Spike straightened, “Grant.”

“Wouldn’t you rather talk about it?” Grant continued over him, still trying to explain why he thought his meddling was useful, “See if it’s something more than nightmares?”

He sighed, “I already know what it is and it’s not something I want to talk about.” Or that he _could_ talk about. “But thanks.” He went to leave, wishing they could just drop it. He’d no idea what he could tell a therapist or a doctor, other than lying about some trauma that was unrelated to demons and so on.

And that wouldn’t solve the nightmares.

He went to open the door but Grant grabbed his wrist to stop him and he flinched, pulling back. He regretted the reaction as soon as he’d done it, especially seeing the look on Grant’s face, but he couldn’t take it back.

“Sorry.” Grant held a hand up, showing he wouldn’t touch him again, “But this is what I’m talking about. … Will. Something obviously happened to you. I’m not asking you to tell me but – you shouldn’t keep it in.”

Looking down, Spike sighed again and nodded, “… Can I borrow the phone?”

Grant blinked, “Sure. Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks.”

He left him in the office and unhooked the handset from the phone down the hall, taking it into his room for privacy. He dialled Giles’ number, knowing it by-heart now, and sat on the bed.

“Hello?”

“Giles, it’s Spike. Are you free?”

There was the sound of a book closing and then Giles answering, “I am now, yes.”

“Good, because I’ve got a problem. Grant wants me to talk to a therapist. Keeps bugging me to and I don’t think I can deny him anymore.”

“A therapist?” Giles asked, “What makes him think you need – ? … ah. Your nightmares.”

“Yeah. But problem is, I obviously can’t tell some random doctor about my days as an evil vampire. And if I don’t, I’m still keeping it all in and they’re just going to worry even more.”

“I assume the nightmares have gotten worse then.”

“Yeah. Almost every night now.”

“Do you remember them? When you wake?”

He paused, “Not always. But I yell things. Grant says I – I tell someone to ‘stop’ a lot. I think maybe I say it to myself.”

“Or … to Jacobs. And the others.” Giles suggested, his voice softer now, and Spike blinked. He hadn’t actually thought of them being the cause. “Spike?”

“Yeah I’m here. I – you think I dream of them?”

“I don’t know. But to a human family, one that’s completely unaware of demons, I’d think their first assumption would be a human attack. I understand what you’re saying but your demon’s work might not be the only thing pressing into your subconscious. And from what I saw of your nightmares as well, I would say that seeing a therapist sounds like a good idea.”

Spike’s grip on the phone loosened and he leant back against the pillows, “To talk about – what they did to me? Instead?”

“It may be affecting you more than you think it is. And a licensed doctor would have a better idea of how to help rather than a retired librarian.”

Spike smiled, “I don’t know. You seem to know a lot about everything. Seems a waste to buy an encyclopaedia when we’ve got you walking around.”

“While I’m flattered Spike, I’m afraid I _don’t_ know everything.” He could hear Giles smile himself through his voice, “But that’s between you and me. Everyone else here still believes I do.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Watcher.” He promised, “Not got anyone to tell anyway.”

“You have a phone.” Giles reminded him, “And email.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And we are not on another planet.”

“Alright, I get it.” He sat up, “Oh. Before I forget, I got my licence done. Manual too, which you should be happy to hear.”

“I _am_ happy to hear that,” Giles said, “Also relieved, on behalf of all cars that have had their gears crunched by your driving.”

“Yeah, well, won’t happen again now,” Spike grinned.

“Good.” He heard a doorbell ring and Giles sigh, “Spike I’m sorry, I’m going to have to go.”

“Yeah, no pr – ”

“But if you want me to check the therapists Grant tells you to see, I can get Willow onto it. Just to see if there aren’t any ‘mysterious’ deaths and so on.”

Spike snorted, “I haven’t said I’ll go to one yet.”

“Well. … I hope you do. It’s not healthy to keep it all in and – talking _can_ help. Especially to an unrelated third party.”

He paused again, glancing down. Inside, he didn’t hate the idea, but there was something impersonal about spewing his hurts to some stranger. He felt off even thinking about it but he also knew that Giles’ recommendations were usually the best to try.

“I’ll – see.” He gave in, curling his toes in over the duvet, “I’ll let you know either way.”

“Alright. We’ll talk again soon, then.”

“Yeah, sure. Bye Giles.”

“Goodbye son.”

.

Brighton was an hour away from Grant’s house and his and Jack’s flat was right in between.

Sophia had a half-term this week and had begged to go to the beach, jumping in her car-seat with excitement as they drove. Spike had at first declined but she’d grabbed his hand and pulled and pulled until he’d had to accept she wasn’t going to give up.

Her mother wasn’t too happy about it  but what could he do?

Grant drove them, picking Jack up as well to make a day of it, and as per his daughter’s request he played Ariana Grande for the entire journey.

It was sunny when they arrived and Spike blinked around, staring at the families walking in groups with ice-cream and crepes. The sun was warm on his skin, the hat Grant had let him borrow shielding his eyes, and he felt dizzy with an emotion he couldn’t name.

He’d never seen a beach in the daylight before. On TV, of course, but never in person. As a human the first time, Brighton had been a fisher’s haul, a dock for the poor and prostitutes. And then as a vampire, he’d only gone once or twice to swim in the moonlight, where only the occasional drunk or skinny-dipper would be about; unless there was a party.

Being here now, when it was beyond busy and where there was warmth instead of chilly-night-air, he felt overwhelmed by what he saw. He felt like a newborn seeing the world for the first time and realised he’d zoned out because he jumped when something cold touched his arm.

“You’ll burn if you stand out here like that,” Melissa told him, pointing at the dollop of sun lotion she’d squeezed onto his skin, “You’re too pale as it is.”

He gave her a tight smile, rubbing the lotion into his arms and neck and letting her give him some more for his face. He looked in his reflection in the car’s window to see if he’d smeared it all in and Melissa’s face joined his. She looked pensive, wiping a hand under her chin as she put lotion on as well, and then she looked startled.

“Sophia! Get down from there!” She ran around the car to grab her daughter from around the waist, pulling her down from the rail that she’d climbed.

“Mummy there’s a bird!”

“And the bird can fly but _you_ can’t!” She huffed, looking at Grant, “You could keep an eye as well, you know.”

“Sorry.” He winced, giving Sophia a stern look, “If you want to see the birds, just ask to go on my shoulders ducky.” She asked immediately and he bent down, picking her up and letting her strain her neck to look up at the birds.

Spike smiled, her recklessness reminding him of Dawn. Then a seagull decided to try to steal his hat. He ducked on instinct and knocked it from the air with a kick, seeing it fall and then roll to its feet and squawk at him angrily.

It was only when it flew away again that he realised what he’d done.

“Wow Uncle Will!” Sophia cried, “You were like a ninja!”

“Uh.” He cleared his throat, his face flushing; something else he wasn’t yet used to. “Sorry Pep,” He pointed at himself, “Not a ninja. I just know a few moves.”

“And the seagull warranted some karate?” Melissa raised an eyebrow.

He licked his lips, nervously, “… I acted on instinct.”

“America must be full of gangs if you’re so used to things flying at your head.” Spike looked at her and she met his gaze for what felt like hours, before she turned back to her family with a huge smile, as though she hadn’t just acted cold, “Who wants ice-cream?”

The rest of the day went much the same. They walked the beach, Sophia and Jack threw rocks into the ocean, and they all got ice-cream and tried some of the arcade games in the pier. And then each time everyone else was otherwise occupied, Melissa looked at Spike until he felt naked under her gaze.

It was nearly four in the afternoon when he finally managed to get her alone. Sophia had wanted to try one of the rides and Grant had gone with her and Jack, which left Melissa and him to wait and see if they could spot them going by.

She didn’t look happy but looked at the ride instead of him, trying to spot her family. He stood beside her, knowing he was radiating tension but unable to stop it.

“You don’t want me here.” He eventually said to her, getting straight to the point, and she stiffened, “Do you?” She didn’t answer so he rocked back on his feet, hands in his pockets as he continued, “I don’t know _why_. I’ve not asked for money and I’m not on the run from the law. I’ve not brought any trouble either.”

“There they are,” She said cheerily, waving when the ride shot past. During the noise, she spoke again, “Don’t talk to me out here like this. I’ll find you at the house.”

Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that had definitely not been one of them. A chill ran up his spine but he kept it hidden and stood with her until the ride was over and Grant declared that they should head back home.

The drive was silent this time – Sophia had fallen asleep and the music was off so as to not wake her, and no one else spoke past their exhaustion either. Jack said his goodbyes once they got to his flat and when they parked at the house, Grant lifted Sophia into his arms and carried her inside, with Melissa following close behind with the bag that she’d brought. Spike waited a bit to watch them, the day feeling surreal to him now that it was over.

He took his shoes off in the porch and put the hat on the hook, going into the kitchen for a glass of water. He heard Melissa and Grant talking upstairs and then there was silence. He waited to see if she’d come ‘find’ him but after half an hour, he went up to his room to get ready for bed instead.

As he passed their bedroom however, he heard his name and froze.

 _“ – dangerous._ He threatened me at the Pier today.”

“Threatened? Come on Mel, what – ”

“He said he knew I didn’t want him here. But his _tone_ , the way he said it – ”

“You _don’t_ want him here. You’ve made that clear. I wouldn’t say it’s a threat.”

“He waited until we were alone to say it,” Melissa hissed, “I put him off by pretending I had some big secret to tell him but I was _scared_ Grant. He scares me okay, he really does. I don’t want him here.” 

“He probably just meant – ”

“I don’t care what he meant, Grant, Jesus! I know you see him as ‘family’ but he turned up out of the blue and you’ve let him into our house like it’s nothing!”

“He didn’t have anywhere else to go!”

“We don’t _know_ that! Who the hell travels halfway across the world because ‘they have no family and have nowhere else to go’? He’s trouble, Grant. And I don’t want him in the house.”

Spike swallowed, holding his breath when they paused, and then he heard Grant sigh, “Okay. Fine. I’ll – I’ll talk to him. See if there’s anywhere else he can go.”

He heard Melissa suck in a breath. Clearly, they’d had this conversation before, so her surprise that she was listened to was obvious, “Really?”

“Yeah.” Grant murmured, “He did say he wasn’t planning on staying long anyway. I just – you know I’ve always wanted more family than just my mum and me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” She really did sound it too, “But it’s just – it’s the way he _moves_. And how he talks. He kicked a _seagull_ out of the _sky_ today and if that was his instincts, what’ll happen if Sophia grabs him one day? Or if my parents come and he doesn’t recognise them?”

“I said I’ll talk to him, okay? Don’t worry about it anymore. He’ll go.”

At that, Spike backed away and slipped into his room as quietly as he could.

So no huge conspiracy, then. Just a scared mother who didn’t trust him. He ran a hand through his hair, blowing out his cheeks as he took that all in, but the part that pissed him off the most was that he couldn’t blame her.

He sat on the bed and stared at the wall, his knees to his chest and his chin propped over them. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get angry at them. The whole thing had felt too good to be true anyway.

He chewed on the inside of his cheeks and thought about calling Giles, but that would mean going out into the hallway to get the phone and he didn’t want to leave the room right now. He lay back and looked up at the ceiling instead, his chest heaving.

So he’d blown it. Like he knew he would have. Like he’d told Angel he would.

He was still an outcast – like he’d been as a Vampire and now as a human. He just didn’t know why it hurt so much, it was nothing new. Maybe it was the soul that made it ache so much more, because by rights, he _should_ belong a little more now but instead his past didn’t allow for it.

He felt empty and upset and rolled onto his side to try and think about the day that he’d had instead. Barring his interactions with Melissa, he’d had a good time, and he realised that there were a lot of things he wanted to do now that involved sunlight. Things he hadn’t been able to do as a vampire.

He pushed himself up and took his notebook out of his bag, opening it and finding a blank page. He’d scribbled a lot of nonsense when he’d gotten bored a lot, some aborted poems and diary entries, but mostly the book had been used to document experiences.

He’d written about the plane journey, having never flown before, and about his driving test and licence gaining.

Now, he added the beach and decided to make a list beneath it of other places to go. He wanted to go to a zoo, when all the animals were awake and he didn’t have to climb into a cage to see something. He wanted to go to the Globe Theatre, see Shakespeare plays out in the open and not hidden under the stage. He wanted to have a picnic by a lake, see the sun glisten on the water, talk to someone he loved beside him.

He swallowed, his throat tight, and shut the book. Once it was packed away, he changed into his pyjamas and went to bed but like always, a nightmare woke him up early. He gasped under sweat-soaked sheets and kicked them off, heading for the bathroom down the hall to splash some water on his face and possibly scream into a towel.

The tap squeaked when he turned it and he winced at the sound, hoping it didn’t wake anyone else, but then when he looked up at the mirror over the sink he saw a pair of glowing eyes watching him. He froze for a moment, his blood running cold, and then he blinked and it was Sophia.

He sagged, turning to face her, “Are you sneaking up on me again?” He asked and she yawned cutely.

“I need to use the loo.” She told him, looking exhausted but clearly needing to pee. Spike dried his hands and left the room, hearing her lock it and open the toilet-lid.

He climbed back into bed, annoyed at himself for seeing things and for being so jumpy.

He woke up late the next day and heard Melissa and Sophia leave the house, the keys jingling as they locked the door behind them. Clearly she didn’t want to be here when Grant kicked him out.

He sighed and got up for the day, padding downstairs when he was a little freshened up but still half-asleep. Grant was in the kitchen, sitting at the counter, and he smiled when he saw him walk in.

“Hey,” He offered a plate of pancakes and Spike took one, “Still tired huh?”

“I’ll live.” Spike yawned.

“Yeah. Sorry we stayed in Brighton so long,” He sipped at what was probably a mug of coffee, “We haven’t been in a while and I thought you’d enjoy it.” He had enjoyed it. “Maybe, uh. Maybe next time – ”

“It’s okay Grant,” Spike stopped him, “I overheard.” He pressed his lips together and shrugged, “I’ll be out of here as soon as I get a plane ticket, don’t worry.”

Grant looked both relieved and uncomfortable, “I’m sorry Will. I am. I just – we don’t really know that much about you and, with Sophia around, I just – we don’t feel – you know.”

“Comfortable.” Spike finished for him, “I get it. And me kicking a seagull probably didn’t help.”

Grant laughed softly, “No. That was a little – out there. I don’t even know where you’d learn a move like that.”

“I’ve been … around.” Spike smiled, “Seen and done things. But I came here for a fresh start.” He shrugged, “Not been so good at it so far.” Grant glanced down and there was a long pause between them. Spike chewed on his bottom lip and supposed, considering that he was leaving anyway, that he could at least clear Grant in his wife’s eyes. Prove he hadn’t been reckless with their daughter’s life.

“You want to know what the constant nightmares are about?” Spike asked, ignoring how his heart clenched in his chest when it realised what he was going to say.

Grant looked up at him, “Oh. No it’s okay, Will. You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s – ”

“I’m not going to say it because I think you’ll let me stay.” Spike cut him off, “I just – it might make Melissa feel better to know I wasn’t here because the _mafia_ was after me or something.”

Grant smiled sadly, “You really don’t have to say.”

“You’re not forcing me,” Spike said, cutting a part of the pancake off and chewing it, “I spoke to someone a few days ago about it and he agreed with you. Said I’d feel better if I spoke about it.” He lowered his eyes, “I just, I felt weird going to a doctor, a stranger, but you and I aren’t that anymore so.” He shrugged. “Here goes.”

Taking in a deep breath, he met Grant’s gaze, “ … I was raped.” He paused, swallowing, “In America. About half a year ago.” Though, outside the Thistle Hole and in real-time, he supposed it was only a month and a half ago instead.

Grant blinked and then blinked again, “You were – ?” He looked shocked, his eyes wide, “Oh. I – I’m so sorry. I never – ”

“It’s okay.” Spike pressed his lips together, “I didn’t tell you for sympathy. I just thought it might clear some things up for the missus.”

“And you – you’re okay with me telling her?” Spike nodded, “Wow. Okay. Uh, I – God. … thank you. For – trusting me. And telling me. If there’s anything I can do – ”

“I’m fine,” Spike smiled, “Just thought I’d explain all the jumpiness and seagull kicking.”

“Right,” Grant smiled back, clearly uncomfortable and utterly unsure of how to broach a topic like this, so Spike decided to end it without any awkwardness.

“So anyway. I hope it helps.” He stood, “I’m going to go see what sort of tickets I can get for tomorrow morning.”

.

Grant left for work soon after he left the kitchen, explaining that as he’d taken the day off yesterday for the Brighton trip, he had some catch-up research to do. Honestly, Spike just assumed that he went in because he didn’t want to talk, which suited him fine.

He didn’t mind being alone right now and sat downstairs to use the family computer to search for tickets, finding the cheapest and earliest flight he could get, before deciding to stop by the bank instead. He’d needed to go for a while but had avoided going because he’d thought he’d had time. Now, he was leaving tomorrow, so there was literally no time like the present.

The Bank that he went to see was in London and was independently owned. The name ‘Neuman & Parker’ was emblazoned over the stone walls in red and white, buffered to shine in the sun, and as soon as he stepped through the doors beneath it, he felt a wave of nostalgia hit like a car wreck. The balcony above the entrance had offices, joined by two sets of staircases on either side of the gallery floor. He remembered running up and down them as a child and stared around his old home like the man out of time he was.

“Hello there, sir,” A woman in a blue-blazered uniform approached him, “Can I help you?” She had a note-pad in her hands, ready to take his name down for an appointment or whatever it was she assumed he wanted.

“Yes. _Hi,”_ He smiled, using charm that he’d always been told worked wonders, “I’d like to see the owner, if that’s possible.”

Her smile froze for a moment, “Oh I’m sorry, Mr Billings doesn’t come to the office.”

 _“Billings?_ Oh. I assumed there’d be a Mr _Parker_ ,” He feigned disappointment, “Or Neuman.”

She stayed polite, “I’m sorry sir. Mr Billings is the owner of this branch.”

“I see.” He frowned, “Then is there someone in higher management I could speak to?”

She wrote something in her pad, “Could I ask what it’s regarding?”

“Yes. It’s regarding the fact that this building is owned by me.”

She stopped writing for a moment, glanced up at him in his hoodie and jeans, and gave him a tight smile, “I’ll be right back, sir.”

He took a seat by the window, keeping his back straight and his posture just as his old governess had once taught him. All this had been lost to him in the years he’d been a vampire but sitting in his old house brought back memories of lessons he’d repressed.

A moment later, a middle-aged man in a pressed suit came to see him, “Can I help you, sir?” The woman he’d spoken to hovered just behind him.

“Yes.” Spike stood, holding a hand out for him to shake, “I’d like to look into William Pratt’s trust savings account.”

Glancing at the woman, the man frowned, “Oh, I thought – ” He recovered, “Of course. If you’ll follow me to the front desks, I’ll have someone help you.”

“No I’m afraid it’ll be a little more complicated than that.” Spike stopped him, “The bank account would have been created around 1882, when this building was a house.”

Smiling plasticly, the man straightened, “We don’t hold accounts that date back that far, sir. This building was opened in 1957, but it was never a house. It was built from scratch. You must be in the wrong place.”

Spike smiled back, narrowing his eyes, “Oh I know I’m not. And you have an account, it just won’t hold money.”

Bristling now, the man blinked a few times but still smiled, “I’m happy to check for you, sir.” He said, gesturing that Spike follow him to one of the desks. Unfortunately for him, Spike had visited this place once before. He’d been in England after he’d turned in 1970 and had snuck into the building to see what had become of his childhood house.

He knew where the old deposits were kept and they wouldn’t be found on the computer. He breezed past the desks to the lift and pressed the down button, rolling his eyes when he heard the man jog to follow.

“Sir, the desk is this way – ”

“I know where the deposit boxes are. Floor -2. I have my key.” Stammering, the man still tried to stop him, and Spike turned to face him. Whatever expression he had had the man stop, and then he stepped into the lift and pressed the floor he wanted.

He wasn’t left alone however, and the man stepped in with him, “Sir. If you wish to go to a deposit box, you need to be escorted.”

The doors opened and Spike walked out, “I am being escorted.” He said, turning to walk down the hall toward the much older hallway. Here, everything was as it had been back in the day, but it had been the servant’s quarters and the kitchen then instead of a bank’s holding area.

They hadn’t changed much of the décor however.

He stopped outside his box and used the key to open it, taking out his mother’s jewellery that he’d put into it and a copy of her Will. He then led the way back to the lift and upstairs, taking a seat and waiting for the man to join him.

Now that he’d sat down, he took the time to read the name-badge, “Derek,” He greeted, “Why don’t you read this?”

There were two security guards approaching them but Derek waved them off and sat down as well, taking the Will and gently opening it.

“Final Will and Testament of Anne Margaret Pratt.” He read, in a tone that showed how much he wanted this ‘customer’ to leave. He scanned over the page, murmuring some words aloud before falling on what was important, “To my son, I leave my personal affects and full inheritance. The house at number 77 Grenward Street also falls to my son and to any subsequent heir of his.” Looking up at him, Derek’s entire demeanour changed.

“I’ve got a DNA test on me too.” Spike grinned, watching as Derek stood and told the woman from before to ‘call Mr Billings’.

.

In the end, the Will was verified by the firm’s lawyer and Mr Billings practically bowed when he met Spike, treating him like royalty though he really wasn’t. The savings his mother had kept in her own box totalled ‘100,000’, which back then had been a substantial amount, but thanks to inflation wasn’t all that much now.

It was a lot more than he’d expected however so he wasn’t disappointed at all.

Dying of TB, his mother had had her Will created and signed and put away all safe before she passed, which had been lucky considering what had actually ended up happening instead.

He took the money out and opened an actual Account, being told that he’d get his debit card in the next few days but when he told them that his address was in America, that changed to 2-3 weeks.

He was given a chequebook immediately however, given the VIP experience as though they expected him to run them all out of business and take his house back. Which, if he were still without a soul, he believed he probably would have but he didn’t have any use for the house now.

He did like seeing how Derek’s manner had changed toward him, though. Like watching a git drink spoiled milk.

As he left, he was given a card with the number and name of the CEO, and was told that he’d be called by him soon. He read it as he left, wondering if ‘Harrison Reading’ would grovel to him too.

He took the train back after stopping in the toy store and once he was ‘home’, he called the airport and booked a flight out using his new Account number.

He got the 9am one tomorrow morning and went to pack, putting the ‘Peppa Pig’ toy that he’d bought on Sophia’s bed once he was done.

An hour passed and he opened the fridge to see what there was the eat before deciding to cook instead. He may as well, as a goodbye to the family, and he’d made a few roasts in his time.

He went out again, bought some chicken from the butcher’s, and was chopping up some peppers when Melissa and Sophia finally came home. Sophia ran up the stairs as soon as her shoes were off and he heard the bathroom door shut, making it clear what her hurry was.

Melissa put her bag down on the kitchen table and walked around to see what he was doing, “Hi Will. Is Grant – ?”

“Work.” Spike answered for her, sliding the chopped peppers into the frying pan and getting onto the onions, “He’s catching up on what he missed yesterday.” She nodded slowly, staring at him, and he gestured to the food, “Figured I’d cook for my last day.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh. I – you’re leaving?” She didn’t know he knew what she’d said last night and he didn’t humour her. She seemed to understand that and turned away, “I’m sorry.” She said then, glancing down, “I know you think I hate you. I don’t. I’m just – ”

“A worried mother.” Spike nodded, “I get it. I’ve known a few worried mothers in my life. Some do things you wouldn’t expect to protect their children.” One had hit him in the head with an axe, “Doesn’t make them bad people.”

After all, _he_ was bad people. Not her.

She stayed in the kitchen as he cooked, talking to him about anything vague, trying to appease her guilt. Once the chicken was in the oven, Grant came home. He saw the two of them and froze for a moment before smiling at Spike and going upstairs to get undressed from his suit.

Spike set the table and was just putting on oven-gloves when Sophia came out of nowhere and barrelled into him with a hug. “Thank you, thank you!” She screamed into his shirt, the Peppa Pig toy in her hands as well.

Spike smiled, hugging her back, and Melissa’s guilt expressed itself on her face again, “That’s so sweet, Will. Thank you.”

He shrugged, stepping out of Sophia’s hug to get the chicken out. They were all sat at the table by the time Grant came downstairs and he sat down as well, digging in with the rest of them.

Spike left it to the parents to tell Sophia that he was going and though he’d expected it, her tantrum was ear-splittingly loud.

“I’ll visit, Pep,” He said over her cries, “I promise.”

Grant smiled at him, “You’re welcome to anytime.”

“But I want him here _now!”_ Sophia wailed. She went on for an hour almost, sniffling even after she’d calmed down, and she refused to go to bed unless Spike tucked her in.

He didn’t mind and let her lead him up to her room, watching as she showed him her ‘trolls’ and hairbands and plastic barbie dolls. She talked and talked then and grabbed his hand whenever he made to leave until eventually, she couldn’t keep her eyes open and slumped against her pillow.

He shook his head, lifting her up a little so she wouldn’t fall right off the bed and pressed a kiss to her forehead, shutting the door on his way out. Melissa was in the hallway when he left and she nodded at him.

“Goodnight.” She whispered.

“Night.”

.

Spike asked Sophia to not be woken when he left, in case it made it harder for him to go and in case it gave her a memory of abandonment if she saw him physically leave.

Grant offered to drop him off but he was still awkward and fidgety after Spike had told him what had happened to him in America, so he’d declined and had ordered a cab.

He’d been hugged by them both and had waved as he’d driven away, resting his head against the seat once they were out of sight and staring out the window. The airport was an hour away and when he arrived, it felt as though he’d never really been in England in the first place. At least, until he’d heard his name called.

“Will!” He turned, frowning, and saw Jack waving him over from a barrier. He left the queue into security and walked toward him.

“Hey. What’re you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye, obviously,” Jack grinned, “Grant told me last night you were going. You weren’t gonna tell me?”

“It was kinda last minute.” Spike told him, “And I hate goodbyes.”

“Well you’re gonna hate this then,” Jack leant over the barrier and drew him into a hug, “See you around. Safe flight.”

Flushing, Spike nodded, turning to get back into the queue. He waved at him just before he went through the barrier, feeling warm at the idea that after only being here for just less than a month, these people would miss him.

Maybe he had belonged, in a way.

He boarded the flight still feeling warm and was glad he’d had the forethought to book first-class so he didn’t have some annoying passenger beside him to spoil that.

He got a cab when he landed as well, having not told anyone in Sunnydale that he was coming back but then when he neared the town’s sign, he started to regret that. What if there wasn’t a place for him now? Or they were going through something and he’d get in the way?

He asked the driver to stop off in Santa Barbara instead and walked into the nearest hotel. He booked a room for an indefinite stay and asked to not be disturbed in the morning, claiming he’d be ‘seriously jet-lagged’, which he probably would be anyway.

He dumped his bag on the floor when he unlocked the room and fell onto the bed, curling up and falling asleep almost immediately.

He woke to someone knocking on the door what felt like an hour later however and groaned, rolling over.

“Room Service.” A woman’s voice called and he sat up, unhappy his request to not be disturbed had been ignored. He opened the door and the cleaner smiled at him, holding up a bottle of champagne.

“I didn’t order that.” He said and she paused.

“Oh. I’m sorry, sir, I was told to bring this to Room 102.”

“Not me.” He shook his head and she frowned, annoyed.

“That new receptionist, I swear,” She sighed, “Could I come in to give her a call? Ask her which room she _meant?”_

Spike almost opened his mouth to say ‘of course’ but then his brain woke up and he realised it was still night and that a cleaner wouldn’t bring champagne to a room, a concierge would.

“Hang on,” He said, shutting the door and rifling in his bag for a moment. Before he’d left the country, he’d been given a few gifts from some of the Scoobies and Buffy had given him a stake. A ‘take care of yourself’ present she’d said, but he knew that she’d just not known about the gifts and had given him whatever she’d had on hand.

It was pretty useful now though.

Opening the door again, he held the stake behind his back and smiled, “Come in.”

Like a barrier being broken, the woman stepped inside and went for the phone. She pretended to dial, keeping her back to Spike in a false display of trust that he was well-accustomed to using himself.

He walked around her to sit on the bed, watching as she sighed and put the phone down. “No answer?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” She looked at him, “She must be away from her desk.” Within seconds, she vamped-out, but he’d seen the signs already and had a stake through her heart just as she tried to bite him.

She exploded into dust and he rolled his eyes, tossing the stake onto the bed and getting up to lock the door. Now that the adrenaline of the kill had hit however, he wasn’t tired anymore, and he hadn’t drunk anything in a long while.

He left the room and went downstairs to the bar, ordering a beer and sitting in a booth by himself. He felt cold however, like someone was watching him, and when he turned to see if he could spot whoever it was a shadow fell over his table.

“Mind if I sit here?” He looked up and saw a man he didn’t recognise. Seeing no reason why not, he nodded. “Thanks. Bar’s too crowded tonight, the damn game brings every redneck out of the woodworks.”

Spike just sipped at his beer, not interested in conversation. But then –

“It’s Spike, right?” He glanced up, “I thought so. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Not seen you around ever,” Spike drawled, narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have seen me. I saw you though.” The man grinned, “Thought you might like to hear that someone’s put a hit out on the Slayer.”

Slayer. So he was a vampire. He must know Spike was human then, but he was still talking to him like they were chums anyway.

“A hit.” He repeated, downing his beer, “Nice to know.”

“Yeah, they’ve got this demon clan. Assassins you know.” He leant forward into his space, “I hope they kill the kid first.”

The kid. Dawn.

Spike tried to keep calm but he knew his heart was hammering away, knew his emotions were running from him again, and he climbed out of the booth quickly.

He went for the lift to his room but heard the guy leave the booth as well and knew that he’d not make it in time for the doors to open. So instead, he went for the doors to the lobby, jogging out to the stairs but his arm was grabbed and he was hauled toward the exit instead.

He kicked out, wincing when he was shoved against the wall, a victim to a vampire attack twice in one night. But he still had the stake, in his hoodie’s pocket. When the vampire was close enough, he jabbed it forward and killed him, choking on the dust when it exploded in his face.

Once it cleared however, he looked up to see a whole group of them standing around.

“Hey Spike.” One of them stepped forward, grinning, “Nice to see you in town.”

He looked at each of them, knowing exactly what this was about now. He’d helped the Slayer too many times, he’d gone against other demons, and now he was human and an easy target.

He backed away, his head still throbbing from where it’d hit the wall, and knowing that one stake wasn’t going to be enough. Someone grabbed his arms from behind and he yelled, trying to tug free, but then his legs were grabbed as well.

“Hold him! I want a nice bite of his – ”

He growled, twisting in their grip like an eel, getting one foot free and kicking the nearest vampire in the head with it. Said vampire snarled and went to rip a hole in his stomach in revenge, when a gunshot ran out through the street.

He was dropped and landed hard over gravel, pain shooting up his spine, but when he rolled over to see Riley Finn and Buffy Summers fighting, his relief trumped it. He lay still to recover, wincing as he tried to sit up only to freeze when a vampire split free from the group and ran toward him.

He staggered up, grabbing his stake from where he’d dropped it, but the vampire exploded before he could do anything anyway. Riley reloaded his crossbow, tossing it toward Spike once it was done.

“Make yourself useful.” He said when Spike caught it, turning back to the fight. Spike smiled, hefting the crossbow up and aiming for the nearest vampire.

As always, most of the fight was ended by Buffy, but it went by quicker with the help she got. Once they were done, Spike found himself pinned by their gazes however, and wished a random demon would pop up and ask for a fight as well, just to distract them.

“Spike.” Buffy shook her hair from her face, putting her hands on her hips, “Why aren’t you in England?”

Spike raised an eyebrow and Riley stepped forward, “What she means is – uh.” He paused, “Why didn’t you call? Tell us you were coming back?”

“Are you still human?” Buffy narrowed her eyes, suspicious. Riley took his scanner out, “We know those things lie now.” She reminded him and he sighed, putting it away.

Spike walked toward her and shot his arm out, “Pulse’s racing if you want to feel.” She pressed two fingers to his wrist, dropping her hand once she was satisfied, “As for me being back, let’s just say England didn’t work out. But I’m not going to butt into your lives, I’m just – I’ll figure it out.” He saluted her, “Cheers for the save though.”

“It won’t be the last time,” Buffy warned him as he walked away, “You’ll be a target alone.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Spike.” She sighed, following him, “Just go and get your stuff.” He looked at her and then at Riley, exhausted and too worn out to argue.

“At least let me book a ticket before you take me back.”

“We’re not sending you back to England, Spike,” Riley said, “We’re taking you to Giles’.”

.

Apparently there was nothing quite like a five-year-old on a mission.

Sophia had been distraught still that Spike had left and had called Giles to see when he arrived. Giles, obviously, had had no idea he was even on the way which had led to them all searching for him and hearing about an attack on Spike in Santa Barbara through a boasting vampire’s mouth.

They’d arrived just in time and were now driving him back to Sunnydale in Riley’s jeep.

“So what happened?” Buffy asked, turning in her seat at the front to face him, “They were too normal for you?”

He gave her a look, “I was too different for them.” Was all he said and she slumped back around, leaving him alone. They arrived mid-morning and Giles was waiting in the doorway, looking both stern and relieved.

“You might have called that you’d found him,” He said, and Spike realised that for once, he wasn’t the one in ‘trouble’.

“We were a little occupied saving his ass.” Buffy answered, taking Spike’s bag out and dropping it off inside the house. Riley followed her in, leaving Giles and Spike outside.

“Hey Watcher,” Spike pressed his lips together, “Surprise.”

Giles looked amused but didn’t say anything, “Come on in.” He stepped aside to let him past, “Melissa Gussett called on behalf of her daughter, you know.” He said and Spike nodded.

“Yeah I know.”

“She told me why you decided to leave.” Spike paused, wondering what she might have said, “And she asked that I look out for you when you arrived. And that you take care.” He turned to face him then, “Imagine my surprise when I heard her say you were on your way already. Without even a call. I thought we’d gotten rather good at communicating.”

Spike smiled and wordlessly went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea for them both.

The next few days went by like he’d never even left. He went back to working in Giles’ shop and irritated the hell out of Anya when he ignored anything she ‘demanded’ he do.

A few times he pretended to be a ‘dazzled’ customer to outshine the regular swindlers Joyce’s gallery had attracted, and at home, he and Giles took it in turns to cook each evening.

Bit by bit, his doubts and hurt over not feeling like he’d ever belong anywhere started to fade away. He’d never felt like he’d had a home really, but now here, he was starting to.

His debit card arrived in the post sooner than he’d expected as well, though he wondered if that was due to the workers being afraid over his ‘owning the building’ deal. As soon as he opened it however, the phone rang and Mr Reading the CEO was on the other line.

Spike spoke to him for over an hour and by the time he was done, he was buzzing and wanting someone to tell what he’d just learnt right away. Unfortunately no one was home so he went out, heading for the Magic Shop and finding Giles behind the counter.

“Giles. Guess what!” He asked.

Without looking up from his book, Giles murmured, “You’ve won the lottery.”

“Close.” Spike grinned, waiting until he was looked at before pointing at himself, “You’re looking at the new Joint-CEO of ‘Neuman & Parker’.”

Giles shut his book, blinking, “I’m sorry?”

Spike beamed, “Turns out, when a company ignores the Will of someone just because no ‘heir’ came forward, they can turn into utter bum-lickers to make sure no legal proceedings come from it.”

“A Will?” Giles frowned, “Your Will?”

“No. My mother’s.” He sat down beside the counter, “I _own_ the building that ‘Neuman & Parkers’ was opened in and they did it without my permission. They never bothered to find an heir and bought the ‘deed’ from the Council. It’s a pile-on-pile of fraud and when I came along, they panicked. So now I’m joint-CEO.”

Giles gaped for a moment, visibly thinking that through, “But how did you know to – ?”

“Read up on the Law a bit.” Spike smiled, feeling warm when Giles smiled back.

“Well. That’s – well. Huh.” He looked flummoxed for a moment and then pleased, “From jobless to CEO.”

“Yep.” Spike beamed again, “And only at 25.”

.

He continued to work at Giles’ shop despite the influx of money coming into his Account on a regular basis, mainly for the company he got and because he actually enjoyed it too.

At Dawn’s birthday party, he splurged a little and got her this bracelet that she’d been sticking her nose to the shop window’s glass to look at. Joyce was aghast and asked him to return it but by then, Dawn was wearing it and showing all her invited friends the present, so the gift stayed.

Every now-and-again, Angel called as well, or even visited. He had an air of sadness in him sometimes too, a sense of longing, and Spike knew how desperately he wanted to be human. He learnt that Angel had once been turned human however, by a demon’s blood, and had changed time to go back.

He wanted to be human but couldn’t afford to and still live the life he led. In Spike’s case, he couldn’t reverse what had happened to him, and he didn’t have a century of guilt making him jump at the chance to save the world 24/7.

It was different for him and gradually, he saw Angel understand that. And with Angel’s understanding, he gained Buffy’s. And with Buffy’s … everyone else sort of fell in behind, making him part of the group and included in a way he’d never been before.

And then he received one more surprise.

A year into everything, Spike came home from Willow’s to find Giles setting the table for dinner. Despite being able to buy a house of his own, Spike had decided to stay with Giles and live with him, again for the company and because he didn’t like being alone so much. He hadn’t ever liked it really but now that he had a choice, he chose this.

He passed the calendar on his way in and paused, frowning. Giles had made something but today was his turn to cook.

“What’s up, Rupert?” He asked, dropping his bag by the table and looking at the pasta that Giles put down, “I thought it was my turn.”

“Oh. Well yes, but I just thought I’d – you know.” Giles sat down, gesturing Spike did as well, “I didn’t have much to do today. And I wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise me?” Spike joined him at the table, spooning some pasta onto their plates. Something was slid into his view and he stopped, looking down at it. It was a large envelope with his name on it.

Confused and curious, he opened it and slid out a stapled wad of paper. He breezed over the title before freezing, rereading it, and looking at Giles in shock.

“Are you – ?” He felt his face flush, cutting himself off. Giles met his gaze, looking absolutely serious as he did.

“I got a call from the ‘Neuman & Parker’ lawyer recently, asking me to verify something about your name. His questions got me thinking that having the name of a technically dead-man could backfire occasionally, especially in our kind of lives. So I thought of changing your name,” He gestured to the contract, “And then I thought about you.”

“Giles. … what – ?” Spike gaped, looking at the contact again as though it would turn to dust in his hands, “I – ”

“Having you living here, getting to know you, I’ve felt like I’ve had a child. I was so proud of you for choosing to return from England for such a selfless reason. And you clearly made an impression on their little girl as well.” He smiled, “Once I realised what I felt was pride, this,” He tapped the paper, “Was just a natural step to someone who is technically an orphan under my care.” He sat back, “But if it isn’t for you, that’s absolutely fine as well. We can just change your name and have it – ”

Spike sniffed, interrupting him. His eyes burned as he tried to keep his tears back, his lips pressed together. Giles’ face softened as he looked at him and Spike smiled, wiping at his face.

“You got a pen?” He asked.

“Here.” Giles handed him one with a shaky grip and he signed his name, passing it back to him once he’d completed the contract.

He quickly threw himself forward then and hugged him around the neck, holding on tight. Giles returned the hug, taking his glasses off to wipe them afterward to hide his own tears and they both laughed at their own soppiness before turning to their dinner and lifting their forks.

Giles nodded at the bag Spike had brought home, changing the subject as though something huge and life-changing hadn’t just happened, “What’s in there?”

Spike wiped his eyes again with the back of his hand, “Just some – books. From Willow. She needs help translating Latin and I know it.”

Giles smiled, “We’ll make a Watcher of you yet.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” He wrinkled his nose, “Don’t much get along with them though.”

“Well you don’t really need a job anyway, do you.” Giles reminded him, looking chuffed himself, and he put a hand atop the contract, beaming, “Son.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rushed and Cheesy but whatever :D
> 
> Believe it or not, the ending is actually why I started the fic, the plot just ran away from me


End file.
